


to all the boys (but especially you)

by SunlitGarden



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - To All the Boys I've Loved Before Fusion, Awkwardness, Crushes, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Girl Next Door Betty Cooper, Happy Ending, Hot Tub, Inspired by To All The Boys I've Loved Before, Kissing, Lap-sitting, Love Confessions, Love Letters, Mutual Pining, Secret Crush, Southside Serpent Jughead Jones, shirtless Bughead lap-sitting, steamy pg-13 scenes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:49:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 27,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24870349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunlitGarden/pseuds/SunlitGarden
Summary: Betty Cooper's quiet high school experience is thrown for a loop when her mother accidentally sends out the love letters she wrote to get closure from her crushes. The worst part? One was for her recently graduated sister's ex-boyfriend and the other for a gang leader who took notes on it! In a desperate attempt to ease her embarrassment and protect her relationship with her sister, Betty hatches a plan to get the letters back and keep the ex at bay by relying on her instincts–which lands her in the arms of Serpent Prince Jughead Jones.Loosely based on To All The Boys I've Loved Before
Relationships: Betty Cooper/Jughead Jones, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 230
Kudos: 304
Collections: 7th Bughead Fanfiction Awards - Nominees, 7th Bughead Fanfiction Awards — Winners!, Color Me Riverdale





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Someone made a pretty gifset of this back in the day and I couldn't rest until bughead made out. Sorry not sorry. As always, this is a very loose interpretation of the inspiration's universe so no "Gen" role to speak of. Let me know what you think!

The soft lights of the projector screen blended together as Betty imagined a different kind of love story. Green hills from the movie became high stalks in a prairie as she walked by the river, blonde hair down and wavy, her skirt billowing behind her. The whisper of weeds prickled at her fingertips, beckoning her closer to her destiny.

A boy with fair skin and copper hair waited by the riverbank, nearly luminous in his white Sunday best. He understood why she was here and felt the same tug for these fields of desire, for the allure of impossible romance. A shadow moved just beyond them, a weight on their hearts in the shape of another person by the banks. The breeze felt fresh and sharp in her lungs and she held her breath, her breasts squashed tight inside a corset as the pale boy picked a flower, offering her the petals to pluck as he said– 

“The popcorn’s running low if you want to finish it off.”

Nearly digging her nails into her palms, Betty withdrew from her idle fantasy and refocused on Jason’s expectant face in real-time from the backseat of his shiny red convertible. He shook the bucket as if to tempt her with it. Shoving her hands under her thighs before she could sneak a handful, Betty smiled. “That’s okay.”

“I’ll finish it,” Polly said, straw squeaking. She scooped up the remaining salty snacks without any hesitancy. Lately, Polly had been indulging in the possibility of life without their mother hanging over her head by sneaking contraband and outings in as often as she could manage. Sometimes it was hard not to be jealous of the freedom, support, and comfort Polly and Jason had, to try and imagine herself in their places. Maybe that’s why she’d been daydreaming more, lately.

“I can grab a refill as a thank you for letting me tag along,” Betty offered, gently taking the bucket.

“Thanks, B!” Jason flashed her a grateful smile, sidling up next to Polly.

It was kind of them to include her like a real person instead of an awkward third wheel. They’d made extra efforts to include her this summer so she could enjoy the last remaining months before Polly left for college, leaving her alone to deal with Alice. Though it was generous of them to include her, Betty knew they deserved their alone time (and certainly wouldn’t be getting it from Cheryl), so she took her time admiring everyone’s cars on the way to the concession stand.

No one appeared to be behind the counter, so she wrapped her arms around the bucket and people-watched while she waited.

Polly’s gaze stayed fixed to the screen while Jason’s hand curled around her shoulder. Reggie approached their car fairly quickly. Her sister was too smart to take any supplements. So was Jason. He was captain of the water polo team, quarterback for the football team, and heir to a successful business, for goodness sake. Why risk that with something as stupid as fizzle rocks or jingle jangle? The names alone made Betty want to roll her eyes.

Reggie seemed smart enough that he should be able to secure a normal job that didn’t involve illegal activities or hitting up his friends for “investment opportunities.” It was almost like he did it for the sake of being a badass on his own merit, which she would respect if it wasn’t so ridiculous. The Serpents hanging out by the fence would probably be happy to teach him a lesson about entrepreneurial endeavors after encroaching on their territory. As soon as one of the leather-wearers looked her way, she stiffened, clutching the popcorn tin closer to her stomach and glaring at the screen. They couldn’t chase her away from everything.

Reggie sauntered over to her, shooting a look over his shoulder as if to tell the Serpents he knew they were looking and didn’t care about it. “Hey, little Coop. What are you doing standing here by yourself?”

“Just waiting for the concession stand attendant.”

He rapped loudly on the tin siding of the projection booth. “Yo, Beetlejuice, a paying customer awaits!”

Betty stepped between him and the door before he could knock again. “What are you doing? It’s a twenty-five cent refill! It can wait a few minutes.”

“You can’t always sit around waiting for things to happen. Sometimes you have to act. That’s a free life lesson from a senior. How old are you, again?”

Sighing, Betty pushed him away. “I’ll be fine getting my own concessions. You might consider putting a hold on pushing your brand of refreshments. It’s dangerous–as is flaunting your customers in front of other sellers, by the way. Do you use this stuff? Because that would explain you have no common sense.”

Tsking, he shook his head. “Good dealers never use the product. Thought a ‘smart’ girl like you would know that.”

He sauntered off, leaving Betty blissfully alone for less than a second before the projection booth banged open. She jumped, then froze, blue eyes raking over her with a hint of suspicion while she tried not to notice the way his _S_ t-shirt clung to him as he wiped his face on his sleeve, darkening it with sweat. The edge of his Serpent tattoo peeked out at her like a wink. Inhaling sharply, she tried to focus on his face, dark hair sticking to his forehead under the crown beanie he insisted on wearing even in blisteringly hot weather.

“Sorry about that. The Beetlejuice reference doesn’t even make sense.”

Jughead shrugged and fiddled with the door. “It’s not even his worst one. Where’d he go?”

“Uh, making the rounds.”

The projector whirled and wobbled in the ensuing pause, his glance darting beyond her before settling uncomfortably on her again. “Did you need something?”

“A popcorn refill, if you have time? I didn’t see anyone at the stand so if you’re busy–”

“It’s fine. It’s my job.” He snatched her bucket on the way past and shoveled in more crunchy popcorn than she thought the three of them could manage in the rest of the night. Fangs never filled up her bucket to this extent. Maybe Jughead liked her. More likely, though, he appreciated a hardy snack. While Jughead shook the top to redistribute the kernels, she smoothed a dollar bill onto the counter.

“Thank you. The change is yours.”

“This’ll go straight to the college fund.” He smirked, sliding it into his pocket as he dropped the bucket on the counter. Sometimes Betty wondered if he meant to be charming or abrasive because he always came off as a bit of both when he managed to turn it on at all. Maybe that was part of his mystique.

Just as she reached for the bucket, he opened the booth and slipped out with her, “How do you like the film tonight?”

“It’s fine.”

“Fine?” He raised his eyebrows, sounding amused.

“Sorry, instinct took over. It’s a classic: the perfect blend of romance, drama, humor, and adventure. How do you like it?”

“I picked it so I’d say I’m a little biased.”

“Right. Good choice. It’s one of my favorites.” Twirling her ponytail, the change in balance tipped the bucket to the side, spilling a few kernels before she could course correct.

“Be careful! Snacks are a terrible thing to waste.” He tipped the edge of his beanie like he was a cowboy, which had nothing to do with the movie, and slipped back inside the projection booth.

She felt like a clumsy idiot, two things she _definitely_ wasn’t and didn’t want Jughead thinking about her.

Biting her lip, she glanced at the ever-watchful Serpents, turned on her heel, and walked back to the car. Her and Jughead’s relationship–if that’s what it could be considered–wasn’t anything like what Jason and Polly had–a passionate, explosive, communicative long-term relationship they were fighting for at every turn. That’s what she should be idolizing.

The ride home made Betty want to sink into the car seat. Polly and Jason argued so passionately that she couldn’t even retreat into a fantasy or her usual compartmentalizing.

“Why would you buy a plane ticket without talking to me?” Polly demanded.

“Why wouldn’t I? You’re my girlfriend, you need to come back to see me.”

“For a football game?”

“It’s important to me. I’m the quarterback, Polly! Scouts will be there and I need my girlfriend in the stands, supporting me.”

“I’m going to be more than your girlfriend. I’ll probably be busy with college things!”

“‘College things.’ Really? You’re not even there yet and you’re pushing away from me.”

“Because you’re suffocating me! I don’t want to come back here and stay in my old room just to cheer from the stands while you do your thing instead of forging my own path. My spirit needs to be free!”

“Is this about getting away from Alice? Because I can talk to my father. We might even be able to get you a room in Thornhill or a job at the Blossom Maple Company. You wouldn’t need college or you could wait for me!”

Betty’s stomach turned at the idea of Polly going down the same path their mother had. It had only led to resentment, divorce, and regrets. Then again, there were other factors. Accidental pregnancy tended to complicate matters.

Polly was incensed. “I’m not going to chain myself to Riverdale working for your parents and waiting for you to come home instead of getting an education!”

“I feel like you’re putting a wall between us! Are you just using me until you go back to school? Waiting until you meet some college guy at a party–”

“This has nothing to do with you!”

“Exactly!”

When they fought, they completely forgot Betty even existed. Before Jason and Polly started dating, Betty had been friends with him thanks to Yearbook and Student Council. He was smart, analytical, a hard worker, and patient, despite some of the harshe qualities of the Blossom family. By the time he and Polly had kissed, Betty sort of vicariously lived through their romance by being a support system to both of them. Love was real. It was important. But during fights, all of that seemed to shatter.

With a final, scathing declaration, Polly shouted that she would not be having a boyfriend her first year of college, then shoved the passenger door open, got out, and slammed it shut so hard the whole car wobbled. Jason glared after her, his blue eyes hard, demanding promises of forever–promises Polly wasn’t ready to give.

Everything felt awful yet weirdly expected.

“Bye, Jason,” Betty said quietly, slipping out of the car and after her sister.

Deep breaths helped calm her racing heartbeat. She hadn’t dug her nails into her palms for a long time, but it was hard not to want some kind of stress release when things got intense like that.

What if they broke up forever? Would Jason not want to be friends with her anymore? Would Polly not want to come home to visit in case she ran into him?

Stomping up the stairs, Polly disappeared into her room and started blasting music.

Alice peered over her spectacles expectantly. “Jason?” Betty nodded. “Did you mail in your letters?”

“The applications are all online.”

“Which means a personal note adds that much more of a chance. You have to set yourself apart from the other applicants.”

“Okay, I’ll look into it.”

“If you just did it when I asked you to, I could stop checking in.”

Looking up at the ceiling for some higher power of salvation, maybe the spirit of her father, Betty curled her nails into her palms just to contain all her anger until she could get to the sanctity of her room. She washed her hands, frustrated by her own weakness,and flopped onto her bed. Once the raging pulse was a full roar, she pulled out her stationery, crafting careful letters recommending herself to various internships and scholarships across the country. As the head editor of the Riverdale Register, her mother was strong-handed when it came to writing exercises, so Betty sealed away her essays and letters the moment she could in the hopes her mother wouldn’t rip them open and try to mark them up with a red pen.

Betty often wrote letters as therapy with the intention to burn them later. Her therapist said she was a people-pleaser–that she needed to express her frustrations and longings in healthy ways so she didn’t burst (like her dad did).

In fact, some of the love letters of her youth lingered in her drawer, poetic confessionals to love that she’d unseal at her bachelorette party for a laugh over all the ones that “got away”: the gang leader, the musician, the (now) obviously gay guy, and the athlete who was now her sister’s now ex-boyfriend. All of them were entirely unavailable. Those letters were the extent of the relationship she could ever have with them.

“Polly, Jason’s here!” Alice called.

“Tell him to go away!”

Every scratch of Jason’s socks on the carpet could be heard through the walls, including the gentle way he knocked and said, “I’m sorry I was upset. I got us plane tickets for winter break so we can be together.”

“I don’t _want_ to be together,” Polly shouted. “Don’t you get that?”

The ensuing silence suffocated her.

Writing wasn’t going to cut it. This time, Betty needed to run.

Jason didn’t show up to take her to school. While part of Betty had hoped he’d still consider her a friend with or without the tether to her sister, she understood he was probably still nursing some wounds and it might be a while before things got back to normal. Unfortunately, Cheryl made it abundantly clear Betty was considered Satan’s less talented sister and was thus banished from anyone’s good graces–unless they wanted to risk the Blossom brand of wrath.

The only people who didn’t care about Cheryl were the Serpents. As much as they seemed to enjoy antagonizing the preppy and popular crowd (and vice versa), it was doubtful they’d want to take Betty in even if she did want to get initiated in. They always seemed to be laughing at someone for being ignorant or scowling at some injustice. Still, their leathers were classically attractive and their bikes seemed interesting. Their charismatic leader naturally drew attention.

The Serpent Prince seemed to sense when she was looking in his direction and turned, putting some kind of candy to his lips while his friends followed suit to stare at her. Betty flashed them an instinctive, pained smile and immediately turned to look somewhere else, _anywhere_ else.

Jughead Jones, _gang leader_ and Twilight projectionist, had more than one letter in her box of love confessions. He was incredibly smart (if pretentious) and always seemed to have his head held high or buried in a book. Sometimes he even had this sideways smile and–

Betty shook her head and pivoted in another direction. Now wasn’t the time to try and get over her crush _again_. The letters were written and sealed, as were her feelings on the subject.

Besides, if the obnoxious way his friends called her _Ponytail_ was any indication, she wasn’t welcome to approach their table.

As she tried to course-correct to the patio in search of a friendly face, she almost crashed right into Jason. He clenched his lunch tray with a haunted look in his eyes, probably noting how much she looked like her sister.

Confused by his immobility, Betty shifted her weight. “Um, hi. How’s your first day back?”

He swallowed thickly, his blue eyes glassy and red. “Did you know she wanted to break up?”

“No! Of course not. I thought you guys were just going through something.”

“Yeah. She was breaking up with me. Moving on.” He sniffed, head falling forward. In the distance, a flash of red rang alarm bells in Betty’s head. Cheryl’s sharp nails dug into the table just before she started moving, her seat scraping back with the same edge as her heels.

“I’m sorry. I know it has to be hard. It’s been lonely not having her in the house, not to mention not seeing you this morning, but we’ll get through it. Things are weird right now, but just because you two broke up doesn’t mean that we can’t have some kind of relationship.”

He frowned just as Cheryl latched onto his arm. “Hey JayJay! Betty. Glad to see your appetite is still _healthy_ as ever. Come on, brother, I saved you a seat. I’d invite you, too, but we just don’t have room for you and all your baggage.”

“Shocking,” Betty muttered, looking at her feet.

“I’ll think about it,” Jason managed, shuffling after his sister and taking his place at the popular kids’ table.

Annoyed and slightly humiliated by the very public snub, Betty sped to the Blue and Gold to sit by herself and eat a sandwich, determined to make a list to improve her chances of making friends outside of Jason’s circle–people who’d actually be interested in her writing and the things she had to say. Although there were probably acquaintances who thought she was pleasant and would help her decorate the gym despite Cheryl’s shun order, Betty wanted to find people she could really connect with.

Broken hearts would mend. They always had.

Pen to her lip, she tried to think of all the traits she was attracted to in a friend.

  1. Good listener/Empathetic.
  2. Smart.
  3. Expressive.
  4. Good sense of humor.



That didn’t seem too impossible.

Then again, she wasn’t sure people would attribute as many of those traits to _her_. But she had her own positive attributes.

Helpful.

Problem solver.

Smart.

Driven.

Peppy?

She sighed at her own list. _Realistic?_

Regardless, _Organized_ was a plus. Maybe.

Betty circled the track during gym, her mind buzzing as it tried to sort out her emotions and people who might be friends. Physical exercise always seemed to help her ignore and sort her problems.

“Hey, Cooper!”

Betty started, surprised to hear her name roll off of Jughead Jones’s lips. “Yes?”

“I need to talk to you.” Brow furrowed, he grabbed her by the crook of her elbow and hauled her off the track to a slightly more private spot by the trees.

Although she wasn’t exactly opposed to some minor manhandling from her former crush, there weren’t a ton of reasons the Serpent Prince would want to talk to her at this point in their lives. Some of the English classes offered students extra credit for contributing to the Blue and Gold, although it always ended up being more of a hassle than a blessing because she had to edit so much, but from what she knew of Jughead, that wouldn’t be necessary or something he’d be interested in.

She wiped her sweaty, stinging palms on her shorts, glancing over her shoulder to make sure Coach Clayton wasn’t going to yell at her for going off the track. Was Jughead supposed to be in class right now?

“I wanted to talk to you about your letters,” he said, tugging at his ever-present beanie.

“What letters?” She had advice columns, if that’s what he meant. Was he an anonymous write-in? Did he want to answer some of them in her stead?

“You’re hilarious. I want you to know that as a novelist, I realize that kind of thing must be hard to write and even harder to send.” Confused, Betty listened to him ramble, used to him needing to get out dozens of pop culture references before he got to the point. Although he considered himself a writer, he rarely finished or polished his pieces, at least to her knowledge. That ancient laptop of his was duct-taped and hot-wired beyond normal function so who knew how his process went.

One time, she’d asked about his work and gotten an eyebrow waggle and, “It’s a mystery.” When she tried placing it on the scale of Agatha Christie to Scooby Doo, he’d tugged his beanie down and said, “Capote.”

“Technically, that’s true crime, not a mystery,” she had said, reveling in his bewildered smile before the bell chimed, signalling his friends’ entrance. “Speaking of…”

“What do you mean?” Avoiding her gaze, he’d clenched his fists over his laptop, bumping them against his friends’ as they descended into the booth. “I’m working,” he chided them.

One of them had glowered at her. “Are you waiting for an invitation?”

“Of course not.” She had tightened her ponytail and headed to her table as he smacked one of their arms, the knots in her chest and mind swelling with complex feelings that needed to be sorted out via journaling and letters. Again.

_Letters_. Betty nodded at Jughead in the present, trying to unravel his thought process. He seemed uncertain, gesturing with his hands and looking away only to focus on her with some kind of serious intention she didn’t understand.

“The ideas behind them, while flattering and passionate, are unexpected, especially considering how much time has passed. There’s a lot to unpack there.”

“Okay. Where would you like to begin?”

Jughead licked his lips, reaching into his back pocket to pull out a pastel envelope along with a coffee-stained piece of paper with his loopy handwriting all over it. As he started searching the contents of the envelope, she squinted at the crown with a heart in the corner along with a B+J.

“Oh my god.” She gasped, gripping his wrist. “My love letters!” Bewildered, she looked at the bullet points on the coffee-stained notebook page. “You have notes on them?”

“Well, yeah. Normally, I throw stuff like this away, but this felt different. I mean, it’s us. It doesn’t make sense. I needed an anchor to...”

Reeling, she backed up, barely breathing as the trees warped in wavy lines. “Oh, no.”

This did not have a compartment–no precedence whatsoever. This was Pandora’s Box projectile vomiting her secrets. She put _fantasies_ in those letters. Not just ones about marriage and his appendages, but her feelings. Jughead took _notes_. He _saw_ things.

“Betts?” Jughead stepped toward her, squeezing that spot of her shoulder that always felt specially reserved for him. “Hey! You okay?”

“I…” Her limbs gave out, her mind slipping into the black waves of Sweetwater river for a second before Jughead shook her back to reality, alarm clear on his face. Cooper training kicked in to suppress her feelings, force them to sink. “Sorry, what were you saying?” Dazed, she untangled herself from his embrace and wobbled to an upright position. This was definitely the most embarrassing situation she’d ever been in and of _course_ it had to happen with him.

Jughead stared at her like she was crazy. “You just fainted!”

“Yes.”

“Does that happen often?”

“No. Never.” She shrugged. “It’s fine.”

“What are you–” Inhaling deeply, Jughead wiped his hand across his beanie before standing up straight. “It’s not _fine_. None of this is fine! You can’t just dump years worth of feelings on someone without a warning and then expect a casual brush-off. I mean, I have my manifesto and I’m trying to focus on getting into college and I don’t have time to overanalyze what my first kiss meant unless… it meant something!”

“Of course it meant something,” she answered without thinking. “You were nice to me.”

“So why send these now? Because I refilled your popcorn? This doesn’t make any sense! First of all…”

Anxiety skyrocketed from Jughead’s rant. Not wanting to dig her nails in, Betty looked for an out. She glanced past Jughead’s flailing arms and passionate gaze at someone storming towards them. It was Jason. He had a letter in his hand, the pastel pink envelope a glaring beacon to the current predicament.

If there was ever a time for lightning to strike her dead, this would be it.

Jason was getting closer. Jason _couldn’t_ get closer. She couldn’t confront her sister’s ex about something that never should have existed and she was way past over anyway, especially not in front of Jughead, who already had his issues with the Blossom heir apparent. There’d be a knife fight or fisticuffs or who knew what other kind of damage? Not to mention further embarrassment.

Someone had to stop him from coming over. Some _thing_. _Anything_!

“It was a fantastic kiss, but–”

In a moment of pure, proactive adrenaline, Betty grabbed Jughead by the front of his shirt and kissed him as hard as she could. Panic swirled with passion until she was half convinced she was going to pass out again.

Kissing wasn’t supposed to cause light-headedness. Or maybe it was? She decided to go with it, pushing her chest against his.

Jughead’s fingertips gently burned holes in the back of her arms until Betty stepped away and took a breath. Eyes fluttering open, Jughead gaped at her, his surprisingly soft mouth ajar.

It wasn’t like she could blame him for being astounded by her impulsive behavior. Her heart hammered in her chest and she didn’t dare look at Jason, who’d stopped his march, probably just as shocked as Jughead and her.

“Hopefully, that one wasn’t bad,” she managed, pursing her lips while Jughead furrowed his brow, tilting his head like she’d just raised a million more questions–ones she definitely wasn’t prepared to answer. “Kisses do mean something, usually, but not always what we expect. And it doesn’t mean we owe each other anything. Sorry about the letters. No investment or explanation needed. We can totally forget about it. Good luck on the college applications!” With that, Betty flashed him a manic smile and spun in the opposite direction to sprint away as fast as she could.

Guys like Jughead with leather jackets, motorcycles, book smarts, sharp tongue, and smoldering good looks probably wouldn’t be phased by a girl throwing herself at them, she tried to convince herself. At least it wasn’t their first kiss. They’d had a sweet, chaste kiss during the spin the bottle, after which he dismissed himself to go eat, clearly more interested in food than making out. Then again, they had been young. More recently, during a particularly rousing performance in Drama class, he’d grabbed her face and kissed her so hard that she nearly flubbed her line. That was a role, though, and she was pretty sure he did it just to get a reaction. Her dreams of a broody, attentive lover waxed and waned throughout the years. To this day, she wasn’t sure how to rectify the thoughtful guy in English class to the grumpy one who he squashed three burgers on top of one another and practically unhinged his jaw to fit everything into his giant, kissable mouth.

Betty ran so hard to get away from her past that even with the delay of kissing Jughead, Coach Clayton said it was her best time yet. High school humiliations seemed to be the best motivation of all. Making sure to avoid eye contact with anyone, Betty hurried to jump in the shower and wash away the stench of surreal panic. As soon as she came out of the locker room, someone grabbed her forearm.

Instinct told her it was Cheryl or Polly ready to rip her to shreds for her accidental love confession. Maybe even a Serpent to let her know she wasn’t the right fit for the Serpent Prince–as if it wasn’t obvious.

“I’m all for dramatics but did I spot you kissing Jughead Jones on the track? I can’t tell if you’ve got balls of steel or a deathwish!”

Kevin, the (now) obviously gay guy looked like he wanted to hold a microphone up to her face and get a confession.

Betty closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead against a growing tension headache. “Did you _also_ get a letter?”

“I did.” He procured an envelope between his fingers. “This had to have been an accident or a prank because I’m pretty sure everyone knows I’m gay.”

“Yep!” She snatched it from his hands and stuffed it in her bag. Acid was going to wear away her entire stomach until it was just one giant ulcer patch. “It’s old. Not up-to-date on the feelings front, although I’m sure you’re lovely.”

“Homecoming?” he guessed.

“Homecoming.” She nodded. Back as a doe-eyed Freshman, when the always-dapper Kevin spun her into a dip, she thought the room was spinning because of their connection. “I am _such_ an idiot.”

“Don’t be embarrassed,” he cooed, wrapping her in a one-armed hug. “I’m flattered. Or I was until I saw you sucking face with our resident James Dean.”

“I’m going to have to transfer or join a rival gang. Maybe I can hide in the Blue and Gold forever. Does your father have a relocation or love-letter protection program?”

“It’s not _that_ bad. In fact, Jughead’s kinda hot if you’re into the broody vibe.”

“ _Kind_ of?” What the hell did Kevin want? A glistening six pack? That wasn’t the important part, she reminded herself. “Yes, Jughead’s attractive but he’s also not interested!” she hissed. At Kevin’s confused look, she pulled him to a more secluded spot in the hall. “I don’t know how you all got these letters but I did not send them. Jughead was in the middle of giving me a very nice _what the hell is this_ speech intent on dissecting them when I basically assaulted him to avoid being cornered by Jason Blossom–whom, out of all you, is the worst confession by _far_ not only because Cheryl will eviscerate me and Jason and Jughead may kill each other but because it might get back to Polly!”

“Who else did you write to, out of curiosity?”

“Nobody else you’d know. At least you brought my letter back to me instead of showing it to the whole school or using it as Blossom currency. You won’t tell anybody, will you?”

“I can keep a secret.” Exhausted and doubtful, Betty raised her eyebrows. “I can! Do you have any idea how many closeted guys I’ve hooked up with? I don’t kiss and tell and that extends to accidental love confessions. It was my first, by the way.”

Torn between gratitude and pity, Betty carefully folded the letter and put it inside her bag. “Thanks.”

He sidled up next to her and for a second she got the impression that maybe they were friends. “Now tell me all about this Serpent kiss!”

She sighed and bit her lip. It was Jughead. Of course she liked it. Clearly, her letters did more harm than good. _Find a new coping mechanism_ was yet another thing to add to her list, right under Kevin's questions. “Didn’t you say you didn’t kiss and tell?”

“Yes, but that was in private. You kissed Jughead in broad daylight so it’s public dish. Did he use tongue? How are his hands?”

“Kevin,” she chided, heat flooding her face as Jughead’s phantom touch washed over her again, “I don’t have time to dwell on kissing Jughead when my sister’s ex-boyfriend thinks I’m in love with him and our sisters might kill me for a childhood letter!”

Eyes flashing, Kevin grinned. “I swear, this school gets crazier every second. How do you feel about a gossip column?”

Betty burst through the front door, having run the entire way from school in the hopes no one would catch her. “Mom! _Mom!_ ”

Alice appeared from the kitchen. “What?”

“What happened to my letters?” she demanded.

“I mailed them.”

“ _All_ of them?”

“Yes. We can’t afford to be picky about postage with your extracurriculars.” Groaning, Betty covered her face and ran upstairs, ignoring her mother’s call of, “Why are you so upset?”

Even though technically it was her mother that grabbed the whole pack of letters without looking, Betty blamed herself and her stupid heart for creating them in the first place. Why did she have to address them? Her therapies didn’t help anything! Smothering herself with a pillow seemed like the most efficient way to bury her feelings.

The doorbell rang, startling her out of her misery. The window was cracked open just enough to make out the voice of her surprise visitor.

“Hi, Alice. Is Betty home?”

_Jason_.

He sounded apprehensive. Who wouldn’t be, walking into the Cooper house? They were cursed when it came to men.

This was not happening. Not today. Not until she decompressed.

Barely even coherent, Betty bolted out the window and shimmied down the drainpipe right as the front door closed behind Jason. Her knees and arches ached but she had no idea what to say to him and certainly couldn’t have this conversation with her mother in the vicinity.

The only place she could think to run was Pop’s diner, about three blocks down and open 24/7. Besides, she could _really_ use a milkshake.

As soon as she had the treat in front of her, her appetite faded with the memory of Polly and Jason cuddling across a booth from her, the picture of happiness. With a morose sigh, she stuck her finger in the whipped cream and sucked on it just for the taste.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone look so sad over a milkshake.”

Betty spun on the stool to face none other than Jughead Jones. His body slanted as he slid into a seat one down from hers, setting his bag on the stool between them. “I’d ask what’s wrong but I have a feeling I’d end up with more questions than answers.”

“Sorry, I’m not going to kiss you again.”

The puzzled expression on his face made her feel like such an idiot. Maybe it really _wasn’t_ a big deal to him. Her letters got analyzed and the kisses fell to the wayside.

Sighing, she sat up straight to make reparations. “Would you like a milkshake to wash the taste away, assuming you haven’t forgotten already?”

“I don’t consider either of us that tragic. Still, I’m never one to turn down a milkshake. Does your confusing apology tour come with fries?”

“Why not?” She stirred her straw around, watching the whipped cream turn pink.

“Pop, the usual,” he signaled. “Milkshake and fries on the lady’s tab, please, hamburger on mine.”

“You’re going dutch?” The proprietor glanced at Betty, eyebrows raised.

“We’re not dating,” Betty hurried to explain, embarrassed that she had to emphasize his lack of interest in her. “I owe him one. You might as well put the hamburger on mine, too.”

Pop nudged his elbow into the air as if it’d have the same effect on Jughead’s endless gullet. “I like her.”

“Careful, she’s a runner,” Jughead teased, then coughed at her sharp look.

As Pop disappeared, they shared an awkward smile as she smoothed her ponytail and he played with his rings. Talking seemed like it might get her in more trouble so she sucked on her straw to keep her mouth full. Jughead’s gaze stayed trained on her face and she couldn’t figure out why. For one thing, it wasn’t fair that he always managed a neutral, thoughtful expression. Most people saw it as “judgey” but she knew he was analyzing, processing… not _compartmentalizing_ , like she did. Swallowing a cheekful of ice cream, she tried to collect herself enough to have a normal, human conversation.

Thankfully, her phone went off in her pocket, giving her an excuse to be distracted. Three missed calls from her mother. Two texts from Jason.

Sighing, she put her phone on silent. Lying never sat well so she decided to text them that she went for a walk.

“Is that your mom?” At her quizzical glance, he rolled his wrists. “You used to say she was kind of a helicopter parent.”

“She is.” Alice texted back encouragement to increase her heart rate and Jason asked when they could talk.

“Has it gotten worse since Polly left?”

“Yes.” Stiffening at her own forwardness, Betty turned off her phone. “I mean, it’s complicated."

“It always is,” Jughead mused, twisting his rings.

Was he inviting her to talk to him about something real? “How is your situation?”

“The same as it was, only now I have a decent method of transportation.”

“The motorcycle. I saw. Very impressive.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” It could use some cleaning up but she didn’t have the heart to tell him that. The hissing from the grill sizzled against her brain and she abruptly turned to him to blurt, “Sorry, again.”

“About what?”

“Everything, I guess. Apparently, the heart and the head don’t always work together. That’s what my mother says.” With a weak laugh, she drew a heart into the condensation of her glass, stiffening when she realized Jughead was staring at her again. “You don’t need to analyze the letters, Jug. I was young when I wrote them and they’re probably all out of context. In fact, it’d be great if I could have them back.”

“Why?” he asked, already putting a hand over his bag as if she’d snatch them without his permission.

“Because they’re embarrassing. They’re basically diary entries that no one else was supposed to see.”

“But you sent them to me.”

“Not… really.”

He fixed her with a probing gaze. “Was it a prank or something?” The blue in his eyes was much cooler than Jason’s, more like a cloudy storm than a glacial river.

“No! My mom sent my letters out by accident, thinking they were recommendation requests and applications.”

“If it was an accident, why did you kiss me?”

“I don’t know. You were talking about kissing and what did it all mean and I acted on instinct.”

“So you don’t know what you’re feeling?”

“I’m feeling a lot of things.” She sighed, nudging the ice cream lumps around. “Mostly guilty for feeling anything. When we kissed, I was panicking. It was the first thing that popped into my head to avoid conflict. In fact, I’m avoiding it right now.” When Jughead kept staring, she realized she owed him more of an explanation. “Jason Blossom was heading towards us.”

“Blossom? Why?” He scowled. “Don’t tell me those idiots are still giving you a hard time about your sister?”

“How did you know about that?”

He let out a forced chuckle and locked his fingers together as he rested his elbows on the counter. “They were Riverdale High’s golden couple. It wasn’t hard to put two and two together that the reason you weren’t sitting at his table anymore is that your sister bailed on him when she went to college.”

“She didn’t _bail_ on him, she–”

“It doesn’t matter,” he cut in, not unkindly, but she bristled nonetheless. “So what does kissing me have to do with avoiding Jason?”

“Please don’t get mad, because remember, this was an accident, but he also had a letter that was meant to be buried forever.”

Jughead’s mouth fell open, eyes going hard. “Are you saying you wrote Jason Blossom a love letter?”

“Technically, I wrote four letters, even if you got more than that.” Pink neon shock flickered in his eyes, probably balking at the idea that preppy put-together Betty Cooper would dare to confess her feelings to anyone in such a reckless manner. “He’s probably just as confused as you are.”

“Damn, Cooper. You’re a player.” The finality in his tone, the way his respect for her seemed to dim amidst his sarcasm made her scramble to explain.

“I’m not, actually. Like I said, they were never meant to be sent. I wrote them over the span of _years_. I mean, I wrote one to _Kevin!_ ”

“Keller? He’s gay.”

“I know!”

At that, Jughead’s lip curved up. “So it’s me, _Jason_ , Kevin… and who’s the last victim on your list?”

“A guy from camp, so hopefully I never have to deal with him.”

“But you have to deal with me? And Jason?”

She shrugged, anxiously streaking her fingers against the milkshake glass to smear the hearts away so she didn’t dig into her palms. “He used to be my friend. Plus, he was Polly’s first real boyfriend, so I trusted her taste in men. Hopefully, he understands and gives it back before Cherly gets wind of it.”

“What if he returns your affections?” She scoffed and rolled her eyes. “What?” He scooted closer. “It’s not unheard of. Preppy guy falls for the girl next door, finally seeing the younger girl for the young woman she’s becoming.” He trailed off, making her curious enough to study him closer. It seemed like he was suppressing the rest of the story either for her benefit or his.

“That’s impossible, not to mention totally disrespectful to my sister.”

“But what can stand in the way of true love?” He offered sarcastically. “Besides, she dumped _him_. It’s not like she has a claim to him forever.”

“No, but she did _love_ him. They loved each other and I love both of them in a very platonic ‘ _wish them the best’_ kind of way. If he _did_ want to rebound, I’d understand, but I’m not interested in hurting anyone, let alone dating him.”

“So what are you going to do?” His foot tapped against the stool between them. “Say Jason Blossom walked in here right this second and said, ‘Betty, we have to talk about this.’ Besides throwing yourself out the door or into someone else, how would you handle it?”

“I don’t know. I guess I’d have to be honest with him.”

“Respectable choice. You were honest with me and look how that turned out,” he teased, thanking Pop for the plate of food and digging in as the proprietor grinned at them both and waddled his way to the other side of the counter to give them privacy.

“Does that mean I can have my letters back?”

He hesitated. “You want to destroy them?”

“The original plan was to bring them out the night before my wedding as a reminder of ‘the ones who got away.’ Mementos for how far my heart had come and who taught me those lessons along the way.”

“That’s assuming you don’t marry one of the fated four. Betty Blossom does have a certain ring to it, not to mention a hefty inheritance.”

Shuddering, Betty rubbed her chilly fingers on her legs. “I’d have to deal with Cheryl for the rest of my life.”

“Didn’t stop you from fantasizing about Jason.”

“Just because I liked him at some point doesn’t mean I wanted a relationship. I wrote those letters because I knew my feelings were unrequited or it seemed like the situation needed to be resolved and I wasn’t getting that from in-person interaction. They were supposed to honor my feelings and bring me closure.”

“Right.” He spun the napkin dispenser, looking at his reflection. “So it’s the same with my letters?”

“I guess. You’re the only one who got multiple entries, if that makes you feel any better.” Although he nodded, he didn’t look at her as he shoveled more food in his face. Trying to lighten the mood, she spun in her seat. “Didn’t you ever pine for somebody or like them so much you couldn’t stand it, knowing they’d never feel the same way?”

He choked on his food, pounding his chest until she joined him by slapping his back until he coughed it down. “I can’t… date,” he wheezed, wiping his eyes. “I’m not genetically set up for it.”

“Same,” she said quietly, nails dragging against her glass. They were right back where they started: talking about their problems, feeling a false sense of camaraderie. He wasn’t a confidante or her crush. He was a classmate. So was she. And that was… what it was.

Sighing, Jughead leaned on the counter. “I don’t have the letters with me, but I’ll get them to you when I can.”

A huge weight lifted off her shoulders. Betty ran her hand down his arm and squeezed his hand. “Thank you for being so understanding, Jughead. I really appreciate it.” Audibly swallowing, Jughead stared at her hand but didn’t move his from underneath it. “Will you forgive me for kissing you like that and dropping all of my emotional baggage into your mailbox?”

Rolling his eyes, he broke her grasp to snag a fry from the steaming pile of food in front of him. “Can anyone stay mad at you?”

“Cheryl can.”

It felt good to hear him laugh. With a new sense of confidence, she dared to steal a french fry. He shot her a look and retaliated by dunking one in her milkshake. “You might want to talk to a therapist about crushing on all these boys you don’t actually want to date,” he said.

“Excuse me?”

“The guy you wrote about? Me? He barely existed. Sometimes it seemed like he was made up in your head. A distraction from other stuff.”

“Well, I liked him. And maybe he does exist or maybe I’ll find a more effective distraction.”

Snorting, Jughead shook his head. “I think you’re scared of love. Everybody is. That’s why we make up fantasies.”

“I don’t think I’m scared of love. That’s the great hope, isn’t it, that we’ll be rescued from ourselves by someone who puts the broken pieces together, who fills our empty spaces and challenges us in unexpected ways that make us stronger and supported?”

“Pretty sure you’re in the fantasy realm again and I’m strictly nonfiction. I hate to say it, but you’re not ready for a relationship if you keep setting yourself up for something that doesn’t exist.” He munched on another french fry.

“Thanks for your pessimism. Since when are you the expert?” Huffing, she grabbed the pickle off his plate and bit into it, the sharp tang of its juices slipping past her lips.

“Hey!” He pouted, eyes cloudy as they fixed on her mouth. “I’ve done my fair share of observing the human condition.”

“The great pickle caper may have to be another thing you experience from a distance.” She grinned and took another bite before plopping the other half of the pickle on his plate.

“Ruthless woman.”

Before she knew it, they’d been talking for a while and he’d finished his meal and she’d drained her shake.

“Guess I better get back home before my mom sends out a search party.”

“Guess so.”

“This was nice. I would–I would do it again.” She twisted her ponytail. “As friends, since I know you don’t date and I’m terrified of love, apparently.”

“Friends?” Smirking, he put out his hand, rings glinting at her in invitation.

“Friends.” They shook hands in a way that left her surprisingly confident. Jughead Jones was talking to her like a person instead of a classmate. If everything else blew up in her face, at least she had that. Licking her lips, she savored the strange combination of strawberries and pickles, sweet and savory in an unexpectedly delightful way.

The next morning, Betty avoided Jason’s convertible by leaving for school at an ungodly hour. His “We need to talk” text made it hard to sleep, anyways. The only suitable response she could think of was, “Maybe later” as if he offered her another refill on popcorn at the drive-in. Exhausted, she took a nap in the locked Blue and Gold office until someone pounding on the door jumped her out of nightmares of Polly disowning her and into the stark reality of fluorescent lighting and dusty computers. Opening the door, she was surprised to see Kevin wide-eyed and grinning.

“Did you send your boyfriend on an intelligence-gathering mission?” he asked.

“What mission?”

“You have to come see this.”

Groaning, she let herself be led to the parking lot where a few people lingered around Jughead and Jason. “I woke up from one nightmare into another,” she murmured, rubbing her forehead, sure she was breaking out at her hairline from stress.

Jughead had a dangerous smile on his face, teeth glinting like his switchblade. “I asked you nicely, now I’m not going to ask you again. Give me the letter.”

“No.”

“She never meant for you to have it.”

“You’re bluffing! You don’t know anything about Betty. She’d never associate with the likes of you.”

“Oh really? Whose lips were on mine yesterday, Blossom? And why’d she only give you a page when I had a whole chapter’s worth of confessions?”

“What confessions?” Cheryl asked, eyes lighting up with mischief that made Betty’s stomach curl in apprehension.

“Anyone could’ve gotten her stationary, Jughead. We all know your hoodlum friends are forgers and thieves and–”

“Hobos,” Cheryl added, a cold, disinterested expression on her face. “Plus, liars. Let’s not forget that felonies run in his family.”

“You take that back!” Jughead spat.

“Make us,” she challenged.

To everyone’s surprise, Jughead flicked his switchblade open, pressing the tip into the custom cherry red convertible. Screeching, Cheryl lunged at him, Jason following to pull his sister out of the fray and throw Jughead across the hood of the car.

“What the hell are you doing?” Betty demanded, running forward and trying to separate them before the Bulldogs and Serpents converged in an all-out brawl. Varsity jackets and leather slipped out of the boys’ grips as she forcibly worked between them, the fire in their eyes magnifying her own. “This is crazy!”

The boys shoved each other hard enough that Betty got caught up in the momentum, tumbling against Jughead’s chest. Jason looked nearly rabid. “I asked this jackass what he was doing with you yesterday and he had the nerve to say–”

“It’s none of your business!” Jughead announced, glaring at the gathering crowd for emphasis.

Jason raised an arm and his eyebrows as if to say, _See?_

“So? It isn’t.”

“You’re Polly’s little sister. I’m supposed to look out for you.”

“Like you have been since Polly left? You don’t even let me sit at your lunch table.”

Shoulders slumping, Jason shot a glance at his sister, who seemed too busy examining the paint job on the convertible to properly eavesdrop. “It’s complicated.”

“So’s this, so leave Jughead out of it.”

“I will if you explain why you sent that letter to me,” Jason demanded quietly, glancing around to signal the rest of the crowd to disperse. “Also, why were you kissing him at the track? I don’t understand. It’s not like you to act out like this.”

“I’m not acting out.”

“You’re sweet and innocent. He’s…”

Jughead arched an eyebrow, puffing his chest at her back. “Tall? Charismatic?”

“I asked you to leave him out of it,” Betty reminded Jason sharply.

“Like we care about _Jughead_ ,” Cheryl scoffed, flipping her hair. “Polly acted out and said she was _following her heart_. These Cooper women are nut jobs.”

“I’ll decide that for myself, Cher.” Cowed, the Blossom twin sulked from the other side of the car. Jason pulled on Betty’s arm. “Come on, let me walk you to class.”

“Betts.” The term of endearment had her whirling in place. Jughead’s lip twitched, something churning under that mask of sarcastic gang leader. He wanted to help her get her pages back and didn’t tell on her for the stupid accident that set this all in motion. That took character. “Call me if you need anything.”

“I will, Juggie. Thanks.” Biting her lip, Betty led the Blossoms away, fully aware of the way Cheryl was already stepping up to threaten Jughead. “Can we talk without your sister going feral?”

“Cher. Meet me in class.”

“But JayJay–”

“Class!”

“Fine. You hurt him or this car and I’ll hang you by that ponytail, you understand?”

Some of Jughead’s friends were finally pulling up to the parking lot to check in with him, but she kept an eye on him the same way he did her. At least he didn’t seem to get pleasure from the drama the way Kevin did. To be fair, Jughead might have been so attentive because he was planning on writing about this, but that didn’t seem like him. What role would her mishap have in his manifesto, anyway?

Finally, Jason and her were far enough removed that she didn’t feel the constant burn of a gaze on her back.

“Let’s start with the obvious: the letter,” Jason said. “Did you mean what you said?”

She picked at her nails, not wanting to meet his eye. “At the time, yes. But I wrote that years ago, right after you and Polly started dating. Those feelings weren’t meant to be shared now or ever. It was an accident.” She went through the motions of explaining the mix-up, tears lining her lashes by the time she was done. “Please don’t tell Polly. We can burn the letter and pretend this never happened.”

“I can’t just forget you that you were in love with me, Betty.” He hesitated, looking out on the football field. “I don’t know. I care about you a lot. Maybe this was meant to happen.”

Mortified, Betty jerked her chin back, mouth agape. “No. Jason, that’s sweet, but we’re _friends._ This was an accident of massive proportions. We love Polly in our different ways and–”

“She didn’t love me back,” he snipped, his clear blue eyes desolate, freezing the words in her throat. “But you did. Nana Rose has been talking about soulmates finding their way together through letters for the last two weeks. I’ve been trying to write to Polly, but maybe she meant you and me.”

Unsure what to say about his batty granny, Betty backed up, crossing her arms. “You’re not the only person who I wrote to.”

“Jughead?” he grumbled, glaring across the field.

“Yeah. And Kevin.”

“What?”

“I know. It was before things were obvious, so the theory about this being fate isn’t really valid.” Twisting her fingers, she glanced off to the side. “Do you think I could get the letter back?”

“You don’t believe my Nana?”

“No, I–I think sometimes things just happen.”

“You think it’s a coincidence that the one time Alice Cooper doesn’t triple-check her daughter’s mail, she sends out love confessions? This was meant to happen. Even though I’m still hurt right now, maybe if we went out…”

“We can’t!”

“Why?”

“Because Polly–”

“Forget Polly for a second! This is fate!”

“Fine, it’s fate! But not yours and mine. Maybe it is yours and Polly’s,” as soon as he opened his mouth to object, Betty barreled forward in the nonsensical argument, “or maybe it’s because… I’m in love with Jughead!”

Stunned, Jason blinked at her. “You are?”

“Yes. We’re trying it out.”

Running a hand through his hair, Jason shook his head. “I don’t understand it. Nana Rose is never wrong about this.”

“Maybe she isn’t. Maybe I’ll live happily ever after with Jughead or maybe she was trying to make you feel better about Polly. Love changes.”

“And you love him?”

“Yes,” she sighed, searching for his beanie amidst the crowd. “So I can’t go out with you, Jason.”

“Hmm. In that case, we’ll see how this turns out.”

“What?”

“If he’s your great love, fine, but if he’s not, I’m telling Polly that I’m going to ask you out.”

“Jason, what–that’s a terrible idea!”

“If you’re still dating by Homecoming, I’ll even have you over to my house in congratulations or to see if there’s anything Nana can do about your soulmate being such a prick.”

“What? Jason, the letter! Jason!” she cried, trying to grab his arm as he stormed off.Hands to the top of her head, Betty practically spun in a circle of frustration. How the hell was she supposed to convince Jason his grandmother was insane long enough to get the letter back?

By the time she got to lunch, the storm in her brain settled enough to see the solution, or at least a temporary one. Tightening her ponytail, she ignored the watchful gaze of the Blossoms as she strode over to the Serpents’ table, dumped a heaping mound of junk food onto Jughead’s tray at the end, and climbed into his lap. “I need you,” she whispered, pleading, hesitating only long enough for his confused alarm to fade to determination as his hands wound around her waist.

“How may I be of service?”

Taking a deep breath, she looked into his eyes. “Sorry about this.” Cupping his face, she slid her lips over his, shocked by the tenderness she felt, quickly followed by a rush as he sucked her bottom lip between his.

She was in so much trouble.

The only compartment her brain could file him under was a, “yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to @theheavycrown and @thetaoofbetty for looking this over for me and cheerleading like the boss ladies they are! If you wanna see the aesthetic Smudge made for me check it out on my tumblr @lovedinapastlife but mostly please comment and love me because I wanna hug soft bughead things while Betty deals with un-suppressing her feeeeeelings. How do we feel about the peeps in this universe? More kissing? Alrighty!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's some serious necking at the end but we're still PG-13 but I thought I ought to warn you just in case you have delicate sensibilities. I'm a heathen. Can't hide it. Hope you enjoy!

“Anything we should know about, Jones?” Sweet Pea asked, eyebrows raised.

Jughead was too dazed from publicly making out with the bombshell in his arms to come up with something snappy.

“I don’t think he can talk with his mouth full.” Fangs snickered, earning a smack on the arm.

Betty licked her lips, eyes dark and alert, before sliding off his lap and taking his hand. “Can we go somewhere?”

The Serpents  _ oo’d _ . Jughead did his best to ignore their taunting hiss of “Go, Jughead!”

“Gentlemen. Ladies.” Jughead tipped his beanie, a weird habit he’d picked up after years worth detective and western flicks. Pulling his tray to his hip, Jughead followed Betty to a table far away from prying ears. She glanced over her shoulder, tightening her ponytail while she eyed the ever-glowering Blossom twins. “Don’t tell me this is about Jason again,” he lamented, collapsing onto the bench.

“I followed your advice! I told Jason everything and now he thinks he and I are destined to be soulmates.”

“Fat chance.” Jughead cleared his throat, tugging on the collar of his shirt before opening a bag of chips to distract himself from Betty’s indignant glare. “I mean, I read your letters and I can see why he’d be flattered, but it seems like a big jump considering he just got dumped by your sister, not to mention the difference in temperament.”

“He said something about his grandmother predicting love letters would bring soulmates together. This isn’t fate. It’s an accident! And I wrote them to multiple people so his grandma doesn’t know what she’s talking about. Half the time she confuses me for my sister.”

“So technically it could be true about Jason and Polly,” he reasoned, waving a chip as if he was connecting two points on a conspiracy board.

“Or you and me,” she said. Jughead gulped, hoping it wasn’t as loud as it felt. He sucked on a chip, savoring the slow release of salt and grease while she gestured at the air between them, adding, “If we’re still living in the realm of fantasies.”

He smirked at the irony of her using his cynicism against him. “Your first instinct in these scenarios is always to make out with me,” he mused, “So who knows? Maybe she’s not crazy. Maybe you’re still crazy about me.”

Betty gaped at him.

Her silent shock made his insides go twisty. Instead of investigating, he backpedaled. “I’m… kidding,” he muttered, crunching down hard on the chip, forcing himself to swallow the soggy piece.

Betty seemed to gather herself with a shake of her head. “It made sense at the time. And as far as delusional fantasies, it seemed like Jason would only drop the soulmate thing if his grandmother’s prediction came true. So... I said I was in love with you.”

Coughing, he almost choked on his chips. She seemed to have that effect on him. He wheezed and pounded on his chest, trying not to let the words rub all over his mind like poison ivy he’d endlessly scratch at–Betty Cooper said she  _ loved  _ him. Probably past tense. Probably fake. But he could work with that, his traitorous mind insisted.

“Sorry.” She raised a shoulder and bit her bottom lip, looking guilty and adorable and tempting as sin.

“How many more incidents are we going to have before you admit this is all a ploy to get me to be your boyfriend?”

Pink gathered high in her cheeks as she pushed her palms into her lap. “I’m not trying to seduce you! I’m trying to prevent Jason from saying anything to Polly. He said he’d give us his blessing and drop the whole thing after Homecoming.”

“Homecoming?” Jughead balked. “That’s weeks, if not months, away!”

Inhaling deeply, she curled her hands into tightly balled fists, her bright green eyes sharp and focused. “I know when Homecoming is, I’m on the decorating committee. Besides, it’ll give him plenty of time to get over Polly and this crazy idea that he and I are meant to be.”

“This whole thing is crazy! Don’t you hate lying? And you’re planning on doing it with me for months on end? Why don’t you come clean to Polly? That has to be more appealing than kissing someone you don’t like anymore in some reenactment of Danny and Sandy!”

“I don’t want to ruin Polly’s first few weeks of college or risk our relationship unless it’s absolutely necessary.” She tilted her chin, making her eyes big and shiny enough to swallow him whole. “If you could date me–or pretend to date me–it could save everything. Please?”

Jughead had to force himself to reach for a chip instead of her hand. Everything about this plan screamed:  _ Don’t Go There, It’s Too Dangerous for your Stupid Heart to Understand. _ He was bound to make an ass of himself trying to keep his true feelings at bay, and if he leaned into them it was likely he’d endure heartbreak unless some miracle aligned their crushes for a few minutes again.

Deflating amidst his pondering, Betty sank into her seat and picked at her nails. “I understand if I’m not your type but this would really mean a lot to me.”

He was torn between melting and bursting into laughter. “You’re not…  _ not  _ my type, alright?” She straightened, fixing those beautiful big eyes of hers on him like spotlights. It was hard not to give himself away without the veneer of sarcasm but he tried to be sincere. “You’re sweet, Cooper, and it’s nice of you to want to protect your family.”

“You’re nice, too, Jughead.” He smirked, not able to meet her eye lest his heart launch itself out of his chest in the hopes she’d catch it. “So what do you think? Will you help me?”

If he just said, “Yes” or “Kiss me again and I’ll consider it”, it would be obvious that he was soft on her. She had enough going on that she probably didn’t need another former crush trying to convince her they were soulmates. And they probably weren’t. They just happened to like each other, which was a miracle in and of itself.

Jughead hated himself for not figuring out when she  _ did  _ like him. In middle school, puberty hadn’t hit yet, so not being floored by the urge to kiss her again made sense. Playing with her ponytail and looking at her pretty face always seemed appealing, but the teachers put a stop to that when he pulled her hair on accident when it got caught in his bracelet. The principal’s office assured him any other forms of attention-seeking would be met with discipline. They were always looking for an excuse to rag on him so he figured it was easier to pretend he didn’t want to play with the pretty girl with big eyes and a bigger heart.

Jughead prided himself on being observant, though, so when he gathered that the way Betty slowed her pace around him might’ve been her longing for more of his presence, he was confident enough to make a move in drama class. He’d kissed her with _both_ hands cupped around her face. But nothing changed. Every time he caught her looking at him, she’d feign a smile and spin away, seemingly nervous of him or his friends. It seemed like nothing would ever come of them, even if she _did_ like him.

Asking her out now would put her in an awkward position. She needed his help and probably couldn’t turn him down. Maybe after Homecoming they could give it a real shot and the stuff beforehand would be practice or at least less of a risk. If they weren’t a good match, fake dating could be a relatively harmless way to explore whatever feelings they had or put them to rest.

He leaned over the table and propped his chin on one hand, tapping his fingers against his cheek while he wiggled his eyebrows. “What’s in it for me?”

Betty sighed. “I wouldn’t feel right paying you to pretend to date me. Is there anything you need help with? Your novel, bike, or maybe resumé writing?”

“Maybe. My college applications could use some spiffing.”

“What are you thinking?”

“How about Co-Editor-in-Chief?” She blinked at him as if she was processing. As his smile spread, so did the alarm on her face.

“You can’t mean–”

“I’m pretty sure you’re the only other employee so I’m happy to share some responsibility.”

“I worked hard on the Blue and Gold so it could be a voice for the students and put out generally inspiring stories! You can’t just take it from me!”

Seeing her worked up made his heart race. Why was he so unnervingly aroused when she defended the school newspaper, of all things? “I wouldn’t be taking anything. If I’m going to be applying to colleges, I need some extracurricular activities and letters of recommendation. If my girlfriend is on the paper and yearbook and… let’s face it,  _ everything _ , we can probably figure out a way to make that fit into my work schedule.”

“Wait–do you really want to join? You’d help me  _ and...  _ help me?”

“Within reason.”

She grinned, squeezing his wrist in a move that nearly made his heart stop. Her eyes practically sparkled at him. “Thank you! For everything. Oh my gosh, and Jug–joining the same clubs could even be used as proof we’re dating!” She took a small notebook from her bag and excitedly started making a to-do list. A different list was one the page behind it, something about  _ qualities I’d like to have in a friend _ . Jughead tried to listen and read at the same time to see how he stacked up. Was she recruiting in a post-Polly world? “I’ve been trying to get stipends for photographers and this might be the push Weatherbee needs.”

“Not necessary, but I do appreciate the bribery.” He shook the snack bag at her. “Want some?”

She cracked a smile and fixed him with a doe-eyed gaze, busting a figurative seam in his chest. Fuzzy feelings spilled out of him like the fluff in his teddy bear after Hot Dog used it for a chew toy.

One crisp bite later and Betty was back at the stark lines of the notebook. “Should we make rules?”

“For what?”

“For… boundaries? To keep our story straight?”

He wiped the crumbs off his fingers and stretched out his legs, accidentally brushing hers under the table. She licked her lips and readjusted to give him more space, which he tried not to be offended by. “What do you need?”

“Well, we can use the letters as the real way we started dating. Then we went to Pop’s, talked, one thing led to another...”

“And now we’re soulmates. At least until Homecoming,” he teased. She threw him a slightly exasperated look. “So besides having some of the same extracurricular activities and going to the dance, how else do you plan on convincing Jason we’re soulmates?”

“Are you greatly opposed to some general PDA?”

He arched an eyebrow, his smirk spreading. “I knew you couldn’t keep your hands off me.” Betty blushed easily. “But you can’t only kiss me when you’re panicking. I’m not a show pony and my lips aren’t stress balls for squeezing.” Rolling her eyes, Betty wrote something down. He hoped it wasn’t the “balls for squeezing” bit. “Any requests for affection from me?”

“I don’t know.” She glanced at her notes, the tips of her ears flaming red. “You could put your hand in my back pocket.”

“The back pocket, eh? Pretty risqué, Cooper. Is that all the affection you require?”

“I mean, you could put your hand in other places, too.” Although she gestured to her shoulder, his mind wandered to all the  _ other  _ places it could be. “Not–you know what I mean! Just don’t do anything that would land us in the principal’s office for public indecency.”

“I’ll do my best.” He slumped back in his seat and sucked down his drink to distract himself from his awkward attempts at flirting. Betty wanted his hand in her back pocket and other places. Or was that her peace offering for him doing this in the first place?

He wasn’t sure what her love language was but he had a feeling it was either words of affirmation or acts of service. This was definitely in the acts of service category.

For years, he’d watched Betty’s face light up during candy-gram deliveries. She’d always get one from her sister and one from Jason. Sometimes they’d both sign their names to one even though she always got them separate ones with thoughtful little inscriptions. She was good that way.

He’d considered sending her an anonymous message but that would invite an investigation and risk her not feeling the same. Plus, money was tight, so it seemed like a steep price to pay for a candy bar with a sheet of paper attached to it without any guarantees it’d make either of them happy.

But now with the Blossoms backing off, their social standing might not be so different.

“What if I take you to school? That might help Jason realize you’ve moved on from pining after a red convertible.”

“That could work. Do you have a second helmet?”

Even her concern for safety endeared her to him. “I’ll scrounge one up somewhere.”

“Thank you. I look forward to that,” she said, rolling her ponytail in her hand like she was trying to decide whether or not to tighten it, something she tended to do when she was determined.

“So do I.” Twice a day he was going to have Betty Cooper wrapped around him. He poured a few pretzels onto her notebook. They scattered over the superfluous rules. “It’s not every day I get to annoy Jason Blossom, improve my chances of getting into college,  _ and  _ get jumped by a beautiful woman.”

Giggling, she shook her head and propped a cheek up with one hand. “Soon, it will be every day.”

He squinted, trying to read her as she chewed her lip and kept her pen poised above the list, not writing anything further, not grabbing a snack, either. It was like she was suspended in between working and having fun and not doing much of either in the process. He glanced at the other list bleeding through the page.  _ Positive Attributes _ .

Before he could read it, she placed her pen down and looked him in the eyes with a frustrated sigh. “What if you meet someone you actually want to date and you’re stuck pretending to be in love with me?”

“That’s not going to happen. Are you worried about missing out on anybody?”

“No! But if you change your mind or you’re frustrated with the situation, please tell me so I can make amends or warn Polly. She should hear about this letter stuff from me.”

“She should. Are you going to tell her about me?”

Betty’s mouth quirked on one side. “Maybe. I really appreciate you trying to get my letter back and being so cool about everything. Did you happen to bring yours to school today?”

“No.” He glanced away. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure he was willing to part with them. It was the only physical evidence he had of being loved by someone he admired.

Betty stared at him a moment too long before snapping herself out of it. “Okay. What’s your phone number?”

After he rattled it off, she texted him a message composed of heart and book emojis along with her address. He saved her in his contacts as “Betts.”

“Hold still. Smile,” he told her, holding up his phone. She shot him an odd look, which he was definitely saving in his gallery, but he told her a stupid joke to inspire a real smile for the contact picture. “Perfect.”

He could’ve sworn she cringed a little at that word. Recovering quickly, she held up her phone. “Your turn.”

“Let me make sure you can recognize me.” He held up half of a cheeseburger and grinned like an idiot in the hopes she’d smile.

She did.

Maybe they had a chance of making this work, after all, he thought, trying to ignore the swarm of butterflies in his chest when her foot brushed his.

The hairs on the back of Betty’s neck stood up as people swiveled to watch her walk past the student lounge. Jughead’s suspenders brushed her thigh. At least she wasn’t doing this alone. Defiant and proud, Jughead faithfully stalked by her side to her locker like a real boyfriend would. It was nice. Well, sort of nice. She was used to fading away in the shadows of Polly and the Blossoms or being the inhuman student council representative. People were looking at  _ her– _ at  _ them _ now, with pointed interest.

“Are we that gossip-worthy?” she muttered behind the safety of the iron door, Jughead leaning against the row of lockers like a human shield. “Why is everyone looking?”

“They’re in awe of true soulmates,” he snarked.

“So it doesn’t bother you?”

“As long as they’re looking and not touching, I’m not worried. Speaking of touching,” his gaze flicked down the hall as he crowded her against the door, his hands on her waist.

“What are you doing?”

“Selling it,” he teased, kissing her cheek.

Lightning heat shot down her body in a zig-zag that had her knees wobbling.

A soft smile sat on his lips. “Let me take those for you, darling,” he crooned, reaching for her books. Jughead’s eyelashes were so long up close, feathery and pretty without any mascara or curling. She hadn’t gotten to admire him like this in their panic-induced makeout sessions. Her heart warmed like a marshmallow over the fire the longer she looked at his mouth or even his eyes.

“Thanks,” she said softly.

Someone scoffed to their left. To Betty’s surprise, it was Jason eyeing them with obvious disdain. Didn’t he say he’d be happy for them? Apparently, the “wound” was still fresh. He stormed down the hall without another word, leaving Betty to wonder if he actually cared about her as a friend. Maybe he did like her more than that? Or not at all.

Jughead himself seemed unaffected. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Let’s get to Spanish class.” The locker squeaked as she shut the door. Without her books, she felt like she had to do something with her hands. “Can I… would it be okay to hold your hand?”

He dramatically rolled his eyes and shifted the books to accommodate her. “You’re the most demanding girlfriend I’ve ever had.”

“No one else asked to hold your hand?”

He shot her a sidelong glance, exhaling a laugh.

“Oh,” she realized, relaxing her grip, “I’m–I’m the  _ only  _ girlfriend you’ve ever had.”

“Went over your head, huh? You’re also the blondest.”

“Shut up.” Nudging his arm, she eyed his casual, gangly gait that he seemed to have slowed to keep in pace with her. Normally, he barreled through the halls with a chip on his shoulder and headphones over his ears. “You’re stuck with me for the next few months so I expect you to behave.”

“That isn’t in the rules, Betts, so you can’t hold me to that.”

“I’m writing it down as soon as we get to Spanish class.”

“Forgery is considered a crime and a violation of our contract. One day in the arms of a Serpent and you’re already resorting to underhanded tactics?”

“By the end of the month, we’ll be robbing banks.” She grinned, confused when someone  _ else  _ smiled back at her besides Jughead.

Kevin hurried into class ahead of them, directing a few students to move to new seats to make room for the new “power couple” and their “court.”

“Thank you, squire.” Jughead tipped his beanie in what seemed to be his new favorite tick.

Kevin half-bowed in return. “Just so we’re clear, I consider you more a Jester than a King.”

“He’s a Prince,” Betty corrected, straightening her spine as they looked at her with bewildered if delighted expressions. “Well, isn’t that a thing? Not all royalty is based on card suits.”

“If it was, you’d be somewhere between an Ace and a Queen,” Jughead assured her with a wink.

“Listen to you two lovebirds being cheesy. Are you going to write each other love letters all throughout the class period?”

“It’d be good practice if we did it in Spanish,” she mused, opening her notebook. Jughead looked slightly ill at the prospect of enduring more of her confessions or writing in Spanish without it being assigned so she didn’t bother him about it. The class did fly by a lot faster with a friend to pass notes with, even if she did have to write them to Kevin instead of her “boyfriend.” Jughead seemed to brace himself every time she folded a piece of paper. Finally, half as a joke, she sent him a simple note with a smiley face. That boyish grin of his spread across his face.

At least something good would come of this disaster.

The next day, Jughead dug into his lunch, flanked on either side by his friends. “Hey, wait, make sure there’s room for Betty.”

“Is she coming? I thought I saw her take a home-packed lunch to the Blue and Gold.”

He paused, chewing in contemplation. Not everything was going to change just because they were fake dating but he had been kind of hoping to spend more time with her.

“Is she afraid of us or something?” Sweet Pea needled. Truthfully, Jughead wasn’t sure, but he suspected she was uneasy. “You still haven’t told us how the Northside nerd finally got over herself enough to take a ride with a Southsider.”

“She’s pretty hot for a nerd.”

“That’s my girlfriend you’re talking about,” Jughead snapped, shooting them a glare and stealing some french fries for good measure.

“Girlfriend, so it’s serious?”

“Yeah.” He sighed, stabbing the ketchup.

“Sorry. She seems nice.”

“She is. She’s…” Were there even enough words to describe her? He’d started writing his own love letter, something to give her after Homecoming, but it seemed too simple. All he wanted to say was, “ _ I like you. Please date me. _ ” Maybe he was better in person. Or maybe he was kidding himself about the whole thing. “Ah, you know what? I forgot, I told her I’d meet her to go over a story.” He snagged a handful of fries, accidentally nudging the bench as he clambered out.

“You still going to Joaquin’s party?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll see you next period.”

“Freak,” they teased, throwing a few french fries at him. What a waste of perfectly decent calories.

Honestly, he didn’t know how Betty managed the horrendously awkward feeling of walking her food down the hall away from everyone else. Or maybe she buried that shame along with crushes.

He was determined to dig at least one of them up again.

Knocking firmly, he didn’t wait for an answer before entering the Blue and Gold. Betty’s ponytail swayed as she looked up from her notebook and turkey sandwich. “Jughead! What brings you here?”

“Figured if you were working through lunch, you could use some help.” He tried to suppress the weird interview vibe he got as he dragged a chair out to join her.

“I’m making a list of upcoming fundraisers.” She pulled her ponytail and clasped her knees together, lips thinning to a straight line. “You don’t need to sit with me on top of what you’re already doing. Your friends are probably waiting.”

“They’ll be fine. Besides, why should I leave and deny myself the thrill of discussing financial means?”

She gave him a sympathetic smile that made him equal parts soft and bristly. “If it makes you feel any better, the bake sale is this week.”

“Are the smells still free?”

“I can put aside a few things. You like coffee cake, right?” 

Confused, he sucked the grease from his fingers. “I like everything.”

“Sorry, I just assumed that flavor because you’re always drinking coffee or that mocha milkshake thing when you’re writing.”

“You keeping tabs on me?” he teased, letting the “mocha milkshake thing” slide because she was being sweet.

“Pining and observing tend to go hand-in-hand. I’ll put you down for one of everything.” Teeth gently pulling at her smile, Betty looked in her element planning things. He wondered what she looked like purging her feelings into those love letters. Was she excited? Desolate? Resigned? Resplendent?

“Oh, I meant to give you something!” She hopped up from her seat and unlocked a cabinet, setting a camera case on the table. “Normally, I make the photographers sign a waiver but I figure you’ve already proven yourself trustworthy.”

“Have I?”

“Well, yeah.” She slid back into her seat.

Clearing his throat, Jughead edged forward, sneaking his feet out in search of her Keds. “I was thinking, maybe, if you wanted to, you could eat lunch with me sometimes.”

“I’d like that.” She smiled, making him wish he could kiss her without being in front of anybody. “Do you prefer to eat outside or in here?”

“I meant with the Serpents.” Betty remained suspiciously neutral. “Unless you’re uncomfortable with them.”

“No, I,” she looked up at the ceiling and tightened her ponytail, letting out a short breath, “I don’t know them. I always got the impression they were making fun of me, to be honest.”

“They wouldn’t make fun of you. Okay, well, they would, but mostly as an extension of making fun of me. That’s what friends do.”

“They call me Ponytail.”

“So?”

“That kind of implies I’m uptight.” She huffed and crossed her arms.

Before he could help himself, he laughed, earning a look of ire. “These are people who go by  _ Fangs _ and  _ Jughead _ . A rose by any other name, or a Serpent, in this case, is just as teased as anyone else.”

“So they’re fine with you and me dating?”

“Why wouldn’t they be?”

She floundered for a moment and part of her letter came back to him–the section where she lamented being too “boring” for him, potentially too much of a “goody-goody” to ever be accepted into his world.

“Come to Joaquin’s party with me. It’s probably not your scene but at least you’ll get to know everybody in case we do ever eat lunch together. Plus, a few of them might want to be part of our Homecoming crew.”

“Do you think they’d want to be part of the decorating…” Taking in his bewildered expression, Betty shook her head, “Never mind. So what did you have in mind for your first story? I have a list of ideas but these things always work better when they come from the heart.”

He scooted his chair closer and started in on a few social issues, pop culture retrospectives, and mysteries that’d been plaguing him late at night. Betty listened carefully, nodding, smiling, her attention solely on him while her pen gently twirled the ends of her ponytail. By the end of the lunch period, they’d talked out at least three conspiracy theories, she’d given him a quarter of her sandwich, and their thighs were touching.

Maybe it was cheesy, but he looked forward to walking her to class because he knew he’d get to hold her hand. This time, she kept her books to her chest, her bashful smile aimed at the floor with her grip relaxed on his. He hoped this wasn’t just a symptom of the bandaid solution for her fallout with the Blossoms. Stupidly, he hoped it was real. That she liked or  _ loved  _ him.

“Elizabeth,” her mother announced each syllable like she was sharpening its edges, “You have a visitor.”

Betty heard suspenders click and jeans rustle against plaid before she saw him. “Jughead!”

He smiled, eyes lit up like he was surprised by her presence instead of the other way around. Most likely, he was delighted by the smell of cupcakes and brownies and not the flour streaked on her forehead. “Hey. How’s the great bake-off going?”

“Fine. What are you doing here?” He’d been almost unnervingly helpful, lately. Part of her kept waiting for the other shoe to drop and for him to ask her to just sign off on all his activities and those of his friends. Or maybe they’d ask her to work on Weatherbee for something.

“We have that story, remember?” He raised his eyebrows, subtly swaying on his feet. “Joaquin’s?”

He meant the Serpents party, she realized, dread weighing her down like cement boots. They hadn’t ironed out the details and the last thing she wanted to do was face his friends after she’d been sweating over an oven all day. “Oh, I don’t know. I’ve only gotten halfway through the baking and they need to rest in the fridge before being frosted.”

Alice swept through the kitchen, snagging the spatula right out of her hands. “If there’s a story, you have to chase it, Betty. I can handle a little baking. Go with your friend. Oh, but change, first. No one will believe you’re a serious journalist with flour on your face.”

There was no use arguing with Alice. Sighing, she untied her apron–oh god, Jughead saw her in an  _ apron _ –and offered him one of the finished cupcakes from the fridge. He licked away some stray frosting on his finger and she almost had a heart attack from the sudden urge to suck either his finger or his tongue to see how it tasted.

Fake dating was making her a total pervert.

“I’ll be back,” she managed, shooting her mother and him a wary smile before running up the stairs. There wasn’t time to worry about her outfit with the two of them downstairs. Her mother would interrogate him or he’d inadvertently out her and she couldn’t handle that on top of everything else. Throwing on a marigold camisole and dark blue skinny jeans, Betty readjusted her key necklace and vaguely tried to get her face presentable before she thundered back downstairs. “You ready, Jug?”

“Yep!” Jughead marched through the hall with the internal silent screaming she often felt after talking to Alice vaguely reflected in his eyes.

“What happened to the cupcake?”

“I finished it.”

Before Betty could do more than marvel at his insatiable appetite, Alice shouted, “Don’t forget to take pictures! Oh, and record your interviews on that app I recommended!”

Betty rolled her eyes. “Let’s go.”

They made their way outside, walking down the driveway so close together that their shoulders kept bumping. “I parked around the block in case your mom was anti-bike.”

“Smart.” Betty nodded, wiping her sweaty palms on her back pockets so she wasn’t tempted to hold his hand. Of course, wrapping herself around him on the bike was a whole other realm of fantasy. Having him close only amplified her desire to be intimate with him on an emotional, mental, and physical level. Now that she’d stopped writing letters, she wasn’t sure what to do with all the feelings that generated every time they were together.

They pulled up to a trailer with other bikes parked outside, some kids smoking something that smelled like skunk. Betty tried not to visibly hold her breath.

“You brought Ponytail?”

Bristling, she removed her elastic and fluffed out her hair, trying to ignore the burns of their stares. She wanted them to respect her as a person, not just put up with her as Jughead’s fake girlfriend.

“How will anyone recognize her now that her hair’s down?”

Jughead brushed her hair behind her ear, then dragged it between his fingers like he was measuring its length, making her breathless for a whole other reason than his friends. “The golden halo is a lot better than what’s under my beanie.”

“Peaches still thinks you’ve got a bald spot. If you swam more than you read at the quarry, we could stop trying to convince her.”

He shot a nervous glance at Betty before slipping into his normal sarcasm. “Don’t be ridiculous, my Devil’s mark is under there.”

“I swear if you said your second head…”

Jughead seemed to vacillate with where he wanted to put her hand, going from the small of her back to scratching her belt loop, finally ghosting over her back pocket before latching onto the loop again. His face didn’t betray any nerves. Then again, he didn’t have much to lose other than his friends not liking his girlfriend. Or vice versa, she supposed, straightening her posture in the effort to do better–and move upwind of the smell.

“Excuse me for a minute,” Jughead said when a short girl wanted to show him something around the corner. Betty feigned a smile at them and wrapped her arms around herself, already missing Jughead’s warmth.

“Were you ever a cheerleader?” Fangs asked.

“No. I didn’t make the cut,” she added without thinking.

“You have those legs and still didn’t make it? Must be a pretty bad dancer.” He blew out some smoke and burst into a fit of giggles.

Betty resisted the urge to curl her nails inward. “What are your extracurriculars?”

“This.”

Nodding, she glanced at Jughead, who was easily laughing with the short girl while they hung onto each other’s arms. A knot tightened in her chest. Jealousy was an ugly emotion and she hated it more than anything. But it wasn’t just about Jughead, she decided, she hated that the girl was so comfortable, having a good time and fitting in where Betty most certainly did not. Snapping her attention back to Fangs, she tried to find something–anything–to talk about that didn’t make her seem like an investigative journalist.

“So how did you meet Jughead?”

“We go  _ way _ back.” The rambling story segued into him reminiscing with his other friends in their conversational circle, leaving Betty once again on the outskirts.

Eventually, Jughead pulled her aside to get her a drink, opting for water instead of flat beer. The short girl was off talking to someone else.

“What do you think?” he asked, leaning against the trailer, cup in hand.

“This isn’t that much different from a Blossom party, to be honest.” He snort-laughed. “Okay, the setting and concessions might be different, but the construct is still the same. People say hi, tolerate me with passive-aggressive remarks, and talk to my… friend,” she managed, not sure what to categorize him as, “While I try not to be a buzzkill or pick up trash.”

“Well maybe you should try harder,” he insisted. It was her turn to scoff and arch an eyebrow. “We’re different than the Blossoms, okay? They hate everybody. The Serpents mostly know you as the perky blonde busybody from class and assemblies. They’re not listening when you give your Weatherbee-endorsed speeches. Most of them only read the headlines of the Blue and Gold.”

“Thanks.”

“And to be honest, you’ve always seemed dodgy about the whole gang thing.”

“Um, yes. They heckle me. Plus, the statistics for teens–”

“These people are my family.”

Rolling her lips inward, Betty nodded. “Sorry.” She was ruining everything. Jughead glanced down at her closed fists, so she quickly moved them behind her back, ignoring the sting. “What were you and that girl talking about?”

“Oh, nothing. A short story made up of memes.”

“That sounds interesting.”

He nodded, watching the ice rattle in his cup with almost frustrated resignation.

Sighing, Betty leaned against the trailer with him, their shoulders touching while they looked out on the park. “Does Joaquin have a library?” she asked hopefully, only half-teasing.

Jughead raised his chin. “No. I can take you home, though, if you’re not feeling a connection.”

Going home felt like failing. “I can handle a party,” she insisted.

“I’m sure you can but let’s just go, alright? I can tell you’re uncomfortable with the drinking and smoking and Alice would probably murder me if I brought you home smelling like weed.”

“But we didn’t get a story.”

“There is no story!”

She cupped his cheek and forced him to look at her. His gaze darted to her mouth and a spark flickered in her chest.

“I’m going to find it.” Bravely kissing his cheek, she turned on her heel and headed straight for his friends. Ponytail or not, she was going to impress her boyfriend.

Jughead had no idea what to make of Betty’s almost aggressively friendliness. She’d been asking the Serpents questions that sounded like they came off conversation starter cards. “What was the most beautiful drive you’ve ever been on? If money and time weren’t considerations, where would you want to travel? What’s the worst injury you’ve ever gotten or seen?” Betty seemed fascinated by every story and scar, encouraging them to share, to connect. Sweet Pea had taken it upon himself to show her some of the best and worst tattoos in the park but now that they’d been gone for about fifteen minutes, Jughead felt bizarrely lonely, looking for her every time someone rounded the corner.

“Already lost your girlfriend?” Joaquin teased in his gentle way, pushing back his long hair. “She asked if she could hang in the bedroom for a few minutes.”

“With Sweet Pea?!”

“No,” he chuckled, rubbing his shoulder, “Just go check on your girl. I saw the cheek kiss. Very sweet. I think she likes you a lot.”

“Thanks. Uh, it’s still early,” he deferred, adjusting his beanie.

“She had a serious heart-eye thing going on when you were playing with her hair.”

“That’s just her face.”

“Not always. When you were laughing with a girl–”

“Okay, Joaquin,” he said, tugging his beanie down over his heated ears. “She likes me. My girlfriend, Betty Cooper, likes me. That’s a good thing.”

“So why are you still here talking to me?”

Exasperated, he made his way to the back of the trailer, knocking gently before pushing the bedroom door open.

“Oh, excuse me!” Betty faltered, scrambling back on the twin bed as she put a book under the mattress. All Jughead could focus on was the way her breasts hung in that camisole when she was on her stomach. He quickly closed the door behind him, mentally going through multiplication tables to try and quell his raging hormones while Betty resettled at the edge of the mattress. “I was just taking a breather. How are things?”

“Good. I was worried I’d lost you to the masses.”

Giggling, she ducked her chin to her shoulder. Most people would read that as flirting.

“Did you find our story?”

“Plenty of them. I took notes on my phone but I still feel like there’s so much I don’t know. Maybe next time.”

“Or at lunch?” he offered, sitting next to her on the mattress.

“Yeah, maybe.” She bit her lip and trailed a hand down her knee. “You aren’t–this isn’t because you pity me, right? I know my situation is pretty embarrassing but I don’t want to be taking advantage of your empathy.”

“I like you, Betty. And I like writing.” Taking a chance, he stilled her fingers with his own, growing more confident as she curled into his touch. “If anybody else asked, I’d probably start running.”

“No, you wouldn’t.” She knocked her shoulder into his. The feathery softness of her hair brushed his arm, making him wish he was in a tank top instead of a t-shirt so he could feel more of it on his skin. That probably made him seem like a serial killer but he was too far gone to care. He wished this was real.

Clearing his throat, he nudged her with his knee. “What were you reading? I didn’t think Joaquin would have anything.”

“The Outsiders.”

“Ah, yes. Seventh grade required reading. ‘We saw the same sunset.’”

“You aren’t going to use the ‘stay golden’ line? That’s a classic.”

“I’m a weirdo, an  _ outsider _ if you will.” Groaning, she leaned into him, the pressure inspiring him to be brave and wrap his arm around her back to snuggle instead of hold hands. “I can’t be making obvious choices. Pony _ tail _ , Pony _ boy _ . There’s a joke in there, somewhere.”

“Let me know when you find it.”

Breaking into giggles, they eased back against the walls. Although he was focused on trying to be witty, Jughead couldn’t help but play with her hair, draw circles on the bare skin of her shoulder, and note the way she placed her hand on his thigh, her cheek often resting on his shoulder. Betty was so smart, so funny, so...

“We’ve been in here for a while,” she mused, nuzzling his chest. “Will everyone think…?”

He chose his words carefully. “Is that what you want them to think?” He could tell the Serpents nothing happened and they’d believe him.

“I don’t know.” She tilted her head up, batting those insanely gorgeous eyelashes at him. “We are boyfriend and girlfriend. If people think we’re kissing, that wouldn’t be the worst thing.”

“But I know how you hate lying,” he goaded, inching closer. He didn’t expect her hand to cup his cheek. He didn’t plan to drag her upper body flush to his. And he definitely couldn’t have prepared for the wave of satisfaction the moment her lips touched his. The kisses weren’t a hard declaration or a distraction. They were slow. They were private, intimate, and deep. Her camisole rose up an inch as he moved his hand along her back, still worshipping her with his lips. Little gasps fueled him to kiss her deeper, to suck hard and then pull back so she’d chase his lips. At some point, she half-clambered into his lap. He had no idea how this was happening and yet it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

Sensations burned themselves in his brain: fisting the silk of her hair, the way her breath puffed against his lips in a strangled whimper whenever he pulled away, the hum of her grunt as she ground against his leg, the winkle of clothes as they pushed them up, then smoothed them back into place. Her short, sharp nails across his stomach made him desperate. Without thinking, he groped her ass, encouraged by her rolling hips to kiss down her delicate neck.

“Oh my god, Jughead,” she murmured, enflaming his ego. He nibbled on her collar, growling when the noise outside muffled her whimpers, then captured her in another kiss. Betty Cooper was his.

Betty Cooper  _ wanted  _ him and he wanted to savor every second of it.

She massaged his shoulders, his thigh, his lips. Jughead was on autopilot, categorizing all the ways to reciprocate this infinite desire besides clawing at her ass. He was so busy trying to suppress a moan at the fact her tongue was slipping against his that he didn’t register his hand went under her top until he was almost at her bra, at which point he and Betty split apart and stared at each other, wild-eyed and dazed, slowly letting reality sink in.

“Sorry. Things got pretty heated.”

“Yeah.” She licked her lips and glanced at the door, probably ready to bolt. "I almost..."

_ "Forgot it was _ _fake?"_ he wanted to ask.

He readjusted his pants, closing his eyes against potential embarrassment and counting the multiplication tables again. It was a temporary fix for something he really wanted to see through. When he vaguely had things under control, he swallowed hard and met her gaze, only reading slight anxiousness in the way she was looking at the windows and doors, but her hand was still on him. “Do you want me to take you home?”

“Okay.”

For no reason at all, they kissed again. This time, it was a peck. Betty questioned him with those big sparkly eyes of hers and he stared back. There was no explanation. He didn’t know who leaned first. It felt so natural.

“Fuck,” he muttered. He wiped his face and got off the bed before he made this any more complicated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't hit me! I'm delicate! I do like happy and encouraging comments! How was getting Jughead's POV this round? What do you think Betty's thinking atm? Oh the joys of fake relationships with real feelings behind them.


	3. Chapter 3

Betty’s foot caught on the seat as she clambered off the motorcycle, nearly knocking Jughead and the bike over. Cringing, she righted herself and popped her helmet off, raking her fingers through the soft waves of her hair. At least she could blame the messiness on wearing a helmet instead of Jughead’s fantastic, large hands running through it earlier, should her mother notice anything amiss.

“Sorry. I can walk back from here.”

“Are you sure?” He frowned. “What about the story?”

She sucked in a breath as she dug her nails into the helmet. “Our story?”

Jughead floundered, confused by the intensity of her reaction. “The… one your mom thinks we’re investigating. Do you need a cover or anything?”

“Our alibi. Right.” Suppressing her disappointment, Betty wracked her brain for useful tidbits from her conversational interviews. “I think I can come up with something about unexpected adventures in and around Riverdale. It’s more fluff than an exposé but I think a positive piece would placate Weatherbee after my last op-ed about school funding. If you have any photos you think would fit, I'd be happy to put them in the next issue.”

“Yeah, totally.” He adjusted himself on the motorcycle, stretching back so his shirt gave a peek of midriff before he settled, sort of posing with his forearms on the handlebars. “Out of curiosity, is this article about unexpected things including you and me?”

Aiming for neutral playfulness, Betty shrugged and handed off the helmet. “That might compromise my journalistic integrity.”

“Ah, yes. The whole lying thing.” He plonked the helmet down behind him.

“No, I meant because of biases. It’d seem kind of self-serving to write about you and me.” Were they still lying about dating? Betty tightened and released her fists. Jughead had been so tightly wound after kissing her that she wasn’t sure of his feelings. Maybe he didn’t want to lead her on. Or maybe his indulgence was more about peer pressure to hook up. Even someone like Jughead who went against the current had to feel lonely sometimes. Or curious. Or whatever.

At least he was nice to her.

“Thanks for tonight,” she managed, “It was more fun than baking cupcakes for three hours.”

“High standards.”

“Maybe next time I should bring snacks.”

“Oh, sorry,” he scratched the back of his neck, “are you hungry?”

“No, no, I meant if you wanted me to go to something like that again, I could bring something. Cups?”

His posture sagged, his tone going soft. “You don’t have to pay your way in, Betts. Just showing up is more than enough. Of course, I wouldn’t turn down any treats.”

“Right.” Swallowing, she licked her lips, then darted her gaze down the sidewalk. “Um, thank you, again. And goodnight.” She darted forward, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth before sprinting to her house, her ears ringing with panic.

This was stupid. So incredibly stupid and reckless. He liked her, obviously, but maybe only because he felt sorry for her. People made comments about her big, pleading eyes and now she was using them on Jughead to get what she wanted. Plus, he was a teenage guy, so if she wanted to kiss him–

–but he also said he wouldn’t have let just anyone kiss him.

It was all so confusing. Or maybe it wasn’t. Maybe her love letter “worked.” Maybe he liked her back for real and not because she was a bleeding heart, an irresistible disaster for a self-proclaimed cynic.

Betty was halfway up the stairs before her mother’s incredulous, “Elizabeth!” finally registered.

“What?”

“Did you get your story?”

“Kind of. I want to write something down before I forget.”

“Then get it to it!” Her mother grinned.

“Thanks,” she replied meekly, closing herself into her room and pressing her back against the door. It was tempting to sink to the floor like she’d seen in movies but knowing her mother, she’d barge in and slam Betty into the wall, so she sighed and got out her laptop instead, shifting between documents to write down all the quotes she could remember and make a list of all the evidence Jughead did and didn’t love her back.

 _Love_.

Desire was a better word for it. Admiration. How could it come back so fast? A few nice gestures and she was putty in his hands–and on his lap.

Groaning, she collapsed onto the mattress and threw an arm over her face. Chewing her lip, she finally decided to text her sister, “Can you talk?”

Within a minute, she had a video call request. Sitting up straight, Betty accepted it. The fake smile she’d plastered on was quickly replaced with a real one as her sister’s face filled the screen.

“Oh my gosh, did you cut your hair?”

“Yes!” Polly shook her head to flaunt the new shoulder-length style. “Mom hasn’t seen it yet.”

“Of course not. She’d probably have a heart attack. You look great, though, happy.”

“I am!” Polly’s gaze was a little foggy, her smile easy like maybe she’d been drinking, but she did seem radiant. “You have no idea what it’s like out here. No Mom. No Riverdale. Just enlightenment.”

“Sounds great. I could use some of that right now, actually.” Frowning, she looked at the comparison list on her laptop. _He Loves Me. He Loves Me Not._ “So how’s your roommate? How are your classes?”

Polly filled her in on the day-to-day and Betty nodded along, absorbing everything she could until a pressure built up in her head.

“It’s so great to hear your voice and see you, but I should probably go to bed!”

“Wait, you haven’t told me anything! How are you?”

“The same.” Betty flinched from the lie of omission. “Um, I kind of have a boyfriend.”

“Kind of?” Polly eagerly readjusted to sit in a comfy position. “What does that mean? Who is it?”

“Do you remember Jughead?”

“The guy who always wears a cap?”

“It’s a crown.” She twisted her sheets. “A beanie. But yeah.”

“How did that happen?”

“I accidentally confessed that I used to have a crush on him and we hooked up–well, we kissed,” she clarified. “And now we’re hanging out but I can’t tell if he’s as into me as I’m into him.”

“Aw, my sweet baby sister has a boyfriend! You could always test him.”

“That sounds awful!”

“Oh, it is, but that’s what a lot of the Vixens did in high school.”

“‘In high school.’ You say that like it was years ago.”

Polly shrugged. “I have a new perspective.”

“What does your new perspective say about asking a guy if he loves you?”

“If Jughead is as protective with his heart as he seems, it probably wouldn’t be a good thing. He might think you were expecting him to have stronger feelings than he’d ready for at the early stages of a crush. And anybody could _say_ they love you. What matters is if they show you. The first time Jason said “I love you” he didn’t mean it. But once he started putting effort into making _me_ happy even if it wasn’t his ideal situation, that’s when I knew he meant it.”

“Have you talked to him since you left?”

“No. We had a short conversation where I told him to stop calling and texting or I’d have to block him. For some reason, he was obsessed with the idea that we were soulmates. I actually haven’t heard from him in a while. Is he seeing anyone?”

“No. Not that I know of.” Betty grabbed her stuffed cat and splayed its limbs onto her lap. “Do you still love him?”

“In some ways, yes. But I need to be free to love myself right now without worrying about how it affects someone else. Things are going to change. So will he, in a few years, so maybe our paths will cross again.”

“You never know what can happen,” Betty mused.

“What is that smile? Are you thinking about Jughead?” Betty held Caramel to her face to hide her flaming cheeks. “Betty, tell me!”

“I love you, thanks for the help, bye!”

Although the laptop snapped shut on Polly’s laugh, Betty’s mind kept whirring for hours, mentally tallying all the ways Jughead showed he cared about her. Filling the popcorn bucket, that intense kiss in drama class, looking out for her with the Blossoms...

Possessed with adrenaline, Betty texted Jughead, “Can I see your notes on the letters?”

He left her message on _read_ for a few minutes. “I think I lost them.”

 _That’s a lie_ , she thought, biting her lip. Why was he being so evasive about bringing her letters back when he was so accommodating in literally every other fashion? Pleading with him probably wouldn’t work as easily over text.

After a few minutes, he sent her texts in quick succession. “I’m sorry. I don’t think anyone else will find them, if that eases your mind.”

“Kind of.” Not really.

“How about I buy you a milkshake to make up for it? Next Saturday?”

“Ok. Goodnight Jug xx.”

“Goodnight, Betts x”

She refused to think about what his singular _x_ meant compared to her double.

  
  


One day without Betty on the back of his bike and Jughead missed her presence. It almost felt like going to school without a second shirt or with his beanie tucked in his back pocket instead of atop his head. His bike couldn’t hold boxes of baked goods so she’d opted to get dropped off by her mom, instead.

While he considered himself a compartmentalizing champion, he couldn’t fully process everything that was happening. Betty made out with him in private and moaned, “Oh god, Jughead,” which would stay fresh in his wet dreams forever. But then they had their awkward goodbye, she asked him for the letters back, and had lukewarm receptiveness to his offer of a date–well, technically, a milkshake.

Jughead barely registered the other students in the halls as he marched past, his fingers twitching with the urge to put on his headphones. The tempting sweetness of frosting hit his senses and he followed his nose past the student lounge to the cafeteria where a candy striper themed baked goods stand was set up with all kinds of confections.

Betty’s face lit up at the sight of him, loosening the knot in his chest.

“Hey.” Jughead slowed his pace to a saunter, pretending to eye the display. “Quite the setup you have here. Smells great.”

“Thanks!” Betty leaned over the table and crooked a conspiratorial finger. Indulging in her game, he smiled and bent down as she whispered, “I hid your box somewhere no one else would find it. Do you want a hint or would you rather play detective?”

“Is this your version of foreplay, Betts?”

She chuckled, glancing down at his lips. Encouraged and borderline cocky, he tilted her chin with the tip of his finger to meet her for a kiss. They relaxed into it, Betty’s soft sigh fanning across his lips.

A loud scoff from his right made Betty snap back, touching her mouth. Cheryl glowered at them, arms folded, while Jason sulked about ten feet behind her.

“Is this a peep show or a bake sale?”

“Wouldn’t ‘kissing booth’ be more appropriate?” he offered, disgruntled that he didn’t get to indulge in what was starting off as a very good breakfast.

“Maybe Betty would be more successful if she focused on pushing the _baked_ goods instead of pandering to some gluttonous gangster.”

“Only an ape would pick at his girlfriend like that,” Jason added, squaring off.

Jughead couldn’t help but stand taller, eager to lay him out for years’ worth of these games. “I was just working up an appetite.”

Jason’s cheeks turned as red as his hair. “Betty’s too nice to correct your vulgar manners. Or do you have her on the line, holding something like her letters over her if she doesn’t pretend to be your girlfriend?”

Cheryl curled her fingers around her brother’s bicep. “I bet he makes her act like his favorite old starlets so he can play hero and rescue poor, helpless Betty–or Grace Kelly.”

Jughead squared his shoulders. “Unlike either of you, I’ve never threatened people to keep them close to me. Tina and Ginger wouldn’t even vote you in as cheer captain if you didn’t promise them solo dances and threaten their social status. And Jason, aren’t _you_ the one blackmailing Betty for affection within a timeline or else you’ll try to ruin her relationship with her sister? Come to think of it, aren’t you telling people to stay away from her right now or be blacklisted from Blossom-approved outings?”

“They get it, Jughead,” Betty said. He could feel her glare but didn’t turn, too enthralled by the rage and guilt in Jason’s eyes and the way Cheryl shrunk back at his admonition.

“You’re the vulgar, loveless ones. Not me. And certainly not Betty.”

Jason shoved his shoulder, giving Jughead the perfect opportunity to punch his chest. They slid against the tile, wrestling as the baked goods wobbled from the disturbance.

“Stop!”

“Betty isn’t worth it, JayJay!”

“Shut the hell up, Cheryl!” “Yes she is, Cher!”

Confused by Jason’s outburst, Jughead paused, still gripping the front of his shirt. They panted at each other in confusion, then pushed each other away.

“You don’t understand.” With a short shake of his head, Jason marched down the hall.

“Jason!” Frowning, Betty squeezed Jughead’s arm. “One second.” She darted after the moody redhead, pulling his arm until he agreed to talk to her in some slightly obscured nook. What the hell was that about? They should’ve been a united front. The Blossoms were assholes and she’d be better off cutting ties with them altogether. Plus, he fought for her. Didn’t that say something?

Without thinking, Jughead grabbed a fistful of chocolate-dipped pretzels.

“You have to pay for that,” Cheryl snapped.

“Add it to my tab,” he spat, flecks of pretzel spraying across the stand. He probably contaminated a few goods but he was too worked up to be embarrassed.

Betty’s hand curled around Jason’s forearm. It might as well have been acid on Jughead’s ribs, especially when combined with her big, soulful eyes reflecting that entitled jackass.

Was Jughead a consolation until she got over her fears about upsetting Polly and went for the water polo team captain? Because clearly, there were feelings there. She wrote Jason a letter, defended him, even lied to him to protect his feelings–and she hated lying.

“You know she’s pathetic, writing love letters to cast her bait, see which idiot would fall for it. JayJay’s too smart for that.”

“No, he’d much rather have your crazy grandmother tell him who to date.”

He turned away only to have something soft and squishy collide with his chest.

Cheryl gave him a wolfish grin, releasing her nails from the cupcake so it fell with a sickening pop from the spot over his heart and into his scrambling hands.

“Oops. Consider that one on the house.”

Lips pressing inward, Jughead’s whole body trembled with adrenaline, a tea kettle ready to scream. His fingers quaked with the effort to keep them loosely curled around the cupcake instead of crushing it into goop that would drip to the floor for Cheryl to slip on with her ugly designer shoes.

 _It’s not worth it_ , he remembered, and it wasn’t like he was going to hurt a girl if he could help it.

Leveling Cheryl with a dark glare, Jughead shook his head and took off to the empty men’s bathroom. Grabbing a fistful of paper towels, he nested the cupcake on the sink and got to work scooping frosting off his shirt.

“Crazy Blossoms,” he muttered, sucking the sweetness off his hands, dabbing his shirt with cold water. The chill agitated his chest. He fisted the back of his shirt and pulled it over his head, furiously pumping hand soap into the spot before running it under the tap.

“Jughead?”

He whipped around, shocked to find Betty Cooper tip-toeing closer with her hand shielding her gaze. He faltered, not sure if he should cover his nipples with the soaking wet shirt in his hands. “Betty, what are you doing here? This is the men’s room!”

“Is anyone else in here?”

“No.”

“Good.” She let out a relieved sigh and locked the door from the inside.

Damn if that wasn’t ominous. And kind of a turn on. “What if someone has to use the bathroom?”

“There’s another one down the hall.” Biting her lip, Betty glanced at his shirt and he kind of wished she would ogle him but maybe she was too good of a person for that. “Are you… okay?”

“It was frosting, not a full-on fistfight. I think I’ll survive. Besides, weren’t you busy comforting Jason? Or do you always run to the latest bleeding heart?”

“Jughead, I’m not here because of the cupcakes or the fight.”

“How many times do you get to hear that in a lifetime?” He mused sardonically, ducking his head to put the shirt on again.

With a patient sigh, she lowered the wet shirt before he could get it over his head and leveled him with a look. “Firstly, I wanted to make sure you were alright, but I also wanted to talk about last night.”

A knot the size of an old musket shell lodged in his throat. “What about it?”

“I talked to Polly.”

“You told her about Jason?” The ruse was over, he thought dismally, dropping the sopping wet clothing to the sink.

“No, I told her about us. And I got to thinking, as we were talking,” she untied the knot at his hips and held out the sleeves of his backup flannel shirt, gesturing him in, “that maybe people do come into our lives for a reason.”

“Don’t tell me you’re on the fate train, too,” he sighed, shrugging on the shirt. He started to button up, but Betty did, too. It made his ears burn to have her fingers skim over his heart, her eyes drifting from his bare chest to his face.

“No. I realized that I wanted to know you–all of you.”

His smirk twitched to life. “I think I read that somewhere.”

“Well, the desire still stands.”

 _The desire still stands,_ repeated in his brain with golden lettering, burning as bright as a blacksmith’s iron.

Betty batted her eyelashes–which was unfair in any situation–then pulled the two sides of his shirt closer, his dick responding far too enthusiastically for such an innocent gesture. “Can you show me?”

“Okay, take it easy on the suggestive girl-next-door routine.” His voice came out hoarse so he did his best to stare her down. “What do you want, really? A repeat of what happened at Joaquin’s?”

“I want to meet your family or see where you live–something that has meaning.” That was not what he expected. Also, impossible to manage. Before he could protest, she brushed a kiss ever-so-gently across his lips.

His tongue darted out on impulse to gather evidence of her touch. “Why? That hardly seems like performative dating.”

“It isn’t. It would be just for me–to help me understand who you really are. You said my letters were based on a fantasy. I want to know the guy underneath the beanie and help him get to know me.”

Chuckling, he shook his head and traced the hem of the cap in question.

“Please, Juggie? You don’t need to. You don’t owe me anything,” she bit her lip, her curled fingers warm on his chest even through the flannel, “But it would make me happy.”

With a deep sigh, he took her hands in his. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thanks! Here, you can wear this as a ward for bad luck,” she promised, removing her thick, beige elastic band and sliding it over the sensitive flesh of his wrist to join his bracelets.

“You have any in black?”

“Yes,” she laughed, “I’ll bring you some. We’ll exchange.”

“Sounds good. I don’t have anything to give but a kiss.” He leaned down to kiss her brow, not sure what all of this meant, only that she was leaning on tip-toe for his embrace and he sure as hell was going to give it to her.

Maybe she really would like the real him. A guy could dream.

Betty practically skipped out of the bathroom, confused to see Cheryl’s cronies huddled outside the door on their phones, most likely updating their “Queen Bee” on the drama.

“Where is she?”

“Where’s who?” Tina asked, eyes round and vacant as usual.

“The HBIC.”

“She’s busy getting someone else to work the bake stand since you ran off with your boyfriend.”

Tightening her ponytail, Betty scanned the halls for any flashes of red hair. “Why didn’t she pick you two?”

“Uh, because we’re here,” Tina mumbled.

The bathroom door swung open, Jughead looking fine and fierce in the plaid button-down with nothing underneath, the sleeves rolled up to show off his impressive forearms. He smirked when he caught her salivating and shot her a wink before sauntering off to the Blue and Gold office, probably to hang up his wet shirt like she suggested as well as scavenge for the snacks she hid.

“Wasn’t he wearing a different shirt when he went in?” Ginger asked slowly. “Did you use it to clean up or something?”

“We washed it.”

The girls raised their eyebrows and exchanged a glance.

“What?”

“Guess good girls really do go bad. Bye.” The girls typed away on their phones, their regulation heels clopping on the tile.

Days like today Betty was glad she had nothing to do with that crew anymore.

The only person she still had reservations about was Jason. They weren’t soulmates, but she did value the positive things about him that initially drew her to crush on him. He had all these qualities that could make him a great leader and person: resilience against his crazy family, patience with Cheryl (and sometimes even Polly), initiative, influence, drive…

But she didn’t need a list.

If Jason ever touched Jughead again, she’d cut him out of her life forever, and told him as much when she pulled him aside–albeit more kindly, since he was still recovering from heartache. It was a compliment sandwich:

_Thank you for caring about me so much–or at least for standing up to Cheryl about it._

_Attacking my boyfriend for showing affection is unacceptable and shows a lack of respect not only to him, but to me, and what will be our former friendship if you and your sister persist in harassing us._

_You’re a better guy than this. Polly even said you used to be supportive of her when things weren’t necessarily ideal on your end. I don’t know what happened to that guy, but I do know he was a lot happier with his relationships. I want to see you happy again. I wish you felt the same about me and Jughead._

But then Jughead stormed off and Cheryl had evil triumph written all over her face so Betty had to cut the conversation short and follow him to make sure the Blossoms hadn’t scared him off. She hoped he liked her more than he hated them. It seemed that way.

The evidence all pointed to the fact that Jughead genuinely cared about her as a person.

But how much?

The day clicked by with lessons and homework, passing notes with Kevin, writing out love riddles for Jughead, making a new note he could keep, if he wanted. He chased her down in the hall and smothered her in cinnamon-dusted kisses. Part of her was certain it was to rub the affection in the Blossoms’ scoffing faces, but another part was thrilled to be shown this level of adoration. She treasured it.

They held hands at lunch and she tried not to let her nerves show when she slid into her seat next to him. The Serpents exchanged some glances but didn’t say anything. Most of the time she could distract herself with the peek of Jughead’s pecs through the slightly unbuttoned top. Readjusting on the bench, she took a deep breath and tried to actively listen, to focus and connect. By the end of the period, she was actively debating with Sweet Pea the effectiveness of each version of _The Watchmen_.

Jughead squeezed her knee under the table and smirked out of the corner of her eye, fueling her fire. He was rooting for her. He was supportive, passively and actively, without being afraid to disagree with her. It was unlike any relationship she’d ever had and she really hoped it could be something more than a fake, passing fad.

After school, he invited her to the Twilight drive-in for a free show and to make good on his promise.

“I’ve seen this already–the place _and_ the film.”

“You have good taste.”

“I’m not sure it counts to getting to know all of you, but I appreciate the effort. Also, I come bearing gifts.” She pulled the Pop’s bag out of her backpack, a little smug at how well she did if his gooey adoration was anything to go by.

“Best girlfriend ever.”

“That is my aim. Thank you, again, for defending me against the Blossoms. I don’t know what got into them.”

“They’re evil incarnate. What’s there not to get?” He tore open the paper bag and spread the food on the table, careful to keep everything neat. “Which ones are yours?”

“The chicken tenders and split one of the fries?”

“As you wish.”

Her heart jumped with hope at the summer film reference. That meant he loved her, didn’t it?

She subtly added it to her notebook in the _Loves Me_ column while they watched one of his favorite films amidst the whirring, flickering joys of the projector.

He made a note to add one of her favorites to the roster for next summer.

“Planning ahead?”

“Never hurts to play to my audience,” he teased.

“I’ll be there.”

They shared a long look, her nerve endings practically tingling with the urge to kiss him. Finally, she leaned across the table, not caring that his fingers were still covered in salt and grease when he slipped them into her hair and gave her a kiss.

Getting messy for the sake of love seemed like a good tradeoff with Jughead.

The trailer looked about as good as it ever would, Jughead decided grimly. He tweaked the couch cushions, double-checked that he’d cleared the recycling and trash bins, and smelled his pits.

“You really like this Betty, huh, kid?”

Jughead tried not to roll his eyes at his Dad and peeked out the blanket they were using as makeshift blinds. “I feel like not wanting to smell bad is a baseline for date behavior.” Although Betty had embraced their work-dates–at the paper and the Twilight, he didn’t necessarily know that the trailer wouldn’t make her wake up and realize that maybe she should go back to cozying up to the Blossoms with their sprawling estates.

He heard a car engine, then some variation of heels on the stairs, and practically wrenched the door off its hinges. “Betty, heyyy–” His girlfriend was gorgeous, but a giant bouquet in a vase stacked on top of a set of books obscured the front of her flowy blouse and miniskirt to the point he lost all sense. “What… what is that?”

“You said that you would handle the food and dessert, but I had to bring _something_ , and I didn’t know what your family would like better–flowers or books, so I took my best guess and brought both. Should I put them in the car, or...?”

“No, that’s thoughtful. The place could use a woman’s touch,” he admitted, helping her in, “And it’s nice to be the on the receiving end of flowers. This is the 21st century.”

“Hey!” FP stood, tearing his gaze away from the baseball game to extend his hand, which Betty dutifully took. “You must be Betty. Jughead’s told me a lot about you.”

“No, I haven’t.”

Betty shot him a puzzled smile. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, either way.”

“Shall we?” Jughead wanted to get the meal over with as soon as possible. It wasn’t anything fancy. FP had talked him out of spaghetti or corn–a messy date dish, too much slurping and teeth-picking–and convinced him to go with a basic chicken and pasta dish.

“We haven’t eaten this fancy since Jug’s mom left.”

“Great topic of conversation, Dad.”

“Do you have any baby pictures of Jughead?” Betty smiled conspiratorially, edging her foot against Jughead’s. “I’d love to have some for the Yearbook for our Now and Then section, see if he wore his beanie back then?”

“I think Jughead would disown me if I let those out.”

“It’s emancipation when the child relieves themselves of a parent.”

“Smart kid.” His dad laughed, smacking him on the shoulder.

Betty skillfully maneuvered the conversation around anything particularly traumatizing until the food was gone. Surprisingly, FP stood up first and offered to clear the plates.

“I can do the dishes tonight, seeing as we had a special guest and Jug cooked everything.” His father paused, acting as if he’d been struck by a thought. “Oh, you know what? I forgot, I told Tall Boy I’d watch the game with him. It should be an hour–hour and a half. Will you kids be okay until then?”

“Yes,” Betty answered sweetly since Jughead was too busy not grinding his teeth at the obvious display.

“Be safe, have fun” he told Jughead, raising his eyebrows before he disappeared out the door.

“I’m so sorry about him,” he groaned, rubbing his face.

Betty rubbed his arm. “Don’t worry. I think my mom said the same thing, although I think she meant it differently. I can help with the dishes.”

“No, no I’ve got it,” he insisted, but she stayed by his side nonetheless, taking everything in. “Please don’t judge us too harshly for the singing bass fish. My dad got it as a gag gift and refused to get rid of it. I like to tell people it’s the reason my mom left.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. It sounds better than she didn’t like either of us.” His stomach dropped, even as the words left his lips. “It’s better that she left. For all of us.”

Betty glanced at the fridge while he pushed the sponge into the plate hard enough he worried it might crack. “You don’t mean that.”

“I’m pretty sure I do,” he said, scrubbing harder. “Not all of us fake our feelings for the sake of others. I’ve gotten pretty good at identifying them. Right now, I’m pissed–especially when people who don’t know anything about it try to throw in their two cents.”

Her big green eyes fixed on him, shiny and sad, and he almost crumbled, desperate to take it back.

“I used to think that kind of thing about my dad.”

He dropped the sponge in the sink. “What?” He knew some of the Cooper drama, but not all of the details because it’d never mattered what the gossip train said about her, especially since most of it originated from the likes of Cheryl Blossom.

Shrugging one shoulder, Betty leaned against the counter and observed the photos on the side of his fridge, holding herself. “It’s easier than asking, ‘Why wasn’t I enough to make them stay?’ You can be furious at someone and still miss them.”

Chewing his lip, Jughead let his hands soak in the lukewarm water, eyeing the black and beige bands collecting bubbles that he wore on his wrists. “I’m sorry, Betts.”

“Me too”

“We all have baggage,” he promised.

Taking in a deep breath, she smoothed her hair–the hair she wore down just for him–and spread the towel out on the counter since they didn’t have much of a drying rack. “What’s on the Jones’ bookshelf? Do you mind if I add the ones I brought to the collection?

“Nice change of subject,” he chuckled, “Help yourself.”

“Thanks.” She pushed herself off the counter and went into the living room to get to it. The viewing window wasn’t particularly helpful because of her kneeling position and the beautiful, unexpected bouquet so he tried to wrack his brain of ways to make her visit more enjoyable. When he had meals at her house, they’d play chess, watch movies, work on homework, or even read and write in the same room. Sometimes being around her was an indulgent distraction–those _legs,_ those _eyes_ , those _lips!_ –whereas others she truly motivated and challenged him.

He dried off his fingertips and joined her in the living room where she knelt by the bookshelf. To his horror, she’d opened up one of the books, the one he’d snuck his and her love letters into because his dad and the Serpents sure as hell weren’t going to go through his book collection anytime soon.

Betty gaped at him. “I thought you said they were lost.”

“They were. Wow, look at that.”

Narrowing her gaze, she pushed them aside and stood up. “You’re lying.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Your dad didn’t put them there and you were talking about reading that book three days ago so I _know_ you didn’t forget about it.”

“Fine. I lied.”

“Why?”

“Because I wanted them! I’m a selfish guy and I wanted to reread the nice things the gorgeous girl in my life said about me, okay?”

“But the notes–your notes,” she picked a page up, “When I said, _I dream of laying beside you, my fingers curling through your uncovered hair,_ you wrote questions like, _does she like me or does the beanie add an air of mystery? People want what they can’t have_.”

“Well, it’s a valid point.” He glanced at the door, wondering if he should bolt.

“Could you… explain this? Were you writing back to me?”

“I was going to give everything to you at Homecoming, along with Jason’s. I wanted you to know you have options,” he ranted, working himself up, “I wanted you to know that you’re not some friendless, hopeless romantic. You’re more than some list in your notebook and you could date anyone if you wanted to, for real. You could date me, even.”

“What are you saying?” she asked, her voice small, eyes round as she stepped closer.

Defeated, he sighed, removing his beanie and tossing it to the edge of the couch, running a hand through his hair almost just for the sake of watching her follow his movements with her lips parted to reassure himself he wasn’t wading out here without hope. “I’m saying I love you, Betty Cooper. And I was hoping you might love me back again.”

“Jughead,” A wide grin broke out on her face as she edged closer, “I never stopped loving you. I’m not sure I can, even if I didn’t realize it. A handful of letters and… I’m falling more in love with you every second.”

“Really?” He let out a relieved breath, his eyes wet.

“Yes!”

“In that case, will you go out with me for real and forget about getting back those letters?”

Chuckling, she cupped his face. “You’d do anything to get out of going to the dance.”

“You’d say anything to get me out of my hat.”

They kissed, their lips catching teeth from all the smiles and giggles. He couldn’t contain the powerful flutter in his chest, the full-body radiation as they stumbled to the couch, his hands around the backs of her thighs as she straddled his lap.

“And it’s not just the hat,” she promised, kissing along his jaw, nibbling his earlobe, and generally taking his breath away. “I love everything about you Jughead, whether it’s covered or bare.”

“And I love all of you, _especially_ when you’re bare,” he teased, tickling the backs of her knees, only to be struck dumb by the sight of Betty lifting off her shift and setting it on the couch beside him.

The pink on her skin reminded him of a watermelon piece, ready to suck and savor, whereas her bra balanced it with a delicate ballerina blush. He desperately tried not to stare at her breasts. Her perfect breasts. Right there. In front of him.

She shifted. “Is this okay?”

“I’m writing you a novel,” he murmured, closing his lips over a tempting freckle, then working his way up to her smile “We’re the poster couple for the power of the written word.”

“Jughead? Stop talking,” she breathed, scratching his scalp and rolling her hips until he couldn’t even remember what words meant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you to @thetaoofbetty and @jjonesin4 for massaging my brain during these trying times. They deserve cupcakes to eat - not as clothing. Wanna share some sweetness with me in the comments? It's much appreciated and motivates me during tough days to keep doing what we do here which is celebrating bughead and love woooo
> 
> what dessert would you want smeared on you? which books do you think betty brought to the trailer? how do you feel about spaghetti on dates? what are some of your fav moments of this chap? I welcome all of it


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hot tubs! Homecoming! And a happy ending ^-^

Jughead’s teeth grazed her jaw, sending a shiver down Betty’s spine. He gnawed on her collarbone like he could suck the marrow from her bones, then kissed and soothed the reddened skin with his soft lips until she moaned. All those years witnessing his endless appetite and she was  _ finally  _ on the menu.

Betty tilted her neck back, giving him more to work with as she ground out relief on his lap. The seam of his jeans protruded, holding firm in all the best ways. His fingers slipped under the band of her bra as he peppered her in hot kisses.

Betty tugged at the back of his shirt. “Can we–can I have this?”

Jughead looked up at her, his eyes blown black. The depth of his lust took her breath away. He lifted his arms and she followed his wordless cue, shimmying the shirt over his head and dropping it with hers.

“Jughead,” she whispered, cupping his face, “I love you.”

His soft expression melted her heart. Jughead gripped her thigh and neck, kissing her firmly. The memory of their letters and the heat of his body pulled her under in a haze of love and lust. Everything felt good. Their exploration imprinted on her memory as she subconsciously made the exploration a diary entry list: the thrum of her pulse when his lips brushed her neck, the thrill of combing his silky, thick hair, the electric graze of her bare breasts against his chest, his long fingers supporting and searching her in ways no one else ever had.

He held her afterwards, offering her water, massages, and even his clothes to wear. They basked in the sweetness of it all until she realized that FP would be back sooner than later. Jughead walked Betty to her mother’s car and kept smoothing his thumb over her knuckles, frowning at the vehicle like the motor was going to growl at him. “Are you sure you can drive? I could give you a ride.”

She tilted her head and arched an eyebrow. “You kind of already did.” Laughing, he looked down, a blush staining his cheeks. “How would my mom get her car back if I rode your motorcycle, though?”

“I don’t know. Can I drive back with you? I can walk home after I make sure you get to the door okay.”

“You think something might happen within the ten feet from my driveway?”

“Stranger things have happened.”

Closing her eyes, Betty relaxed into a smiley kiss. It gave her the same sense of hope and serenity as making a wish on a dandelion fluff. Very different from the sizzling need that popped in her veins on the couch.

Licking her lips, she eyed her newly-minted (for real) boyfriend. “Get in.”

Although Betty was strictly a 10-and-2 kind of driver when it came to hand placement, the way Jughead drummed his long fingers on his raised knee tempted her into making an exception, so she took his hand. Jughead flashed her a bashful, giddy smile that made her breath catch, and she had to force herself to focus on the road ahead. How had she resisted her true feelings for so long when it felt like he lit her heart on fire?

Jughead cleared his throat and wiggled his fingers at the console. “What does Alice Cooper listen to on the radio? Tell me it’s Alice Cooper.”

Giggling, Betty nudged their linked hands along the dashboard to knock to another set of saved stations. “She saves all her guilty pleasures for FM2.”

His eyebrows crept up his forehead. “I recognize this song. She has the same taste as my dad.”

“What do you listen to in the hallways when your headphones are on?”

“Uh, horror podcasts?”

“Is that a question?” Betty clicked the turn signal.

Shaking his head, Jughead looked out the window. “It depends. I’ll show you my playlist.”

“Fine, but no snobby, ‘I can’t believe you haven’t listened to them!’”

“Betty–”

“There are hundreds of thousands of artists across decades and millions of books to be read and not all of us can listen to music and do other stuff at the same time, like write the next great American novel.”

Jughead tilted his head back in a laugh. “You managed to compliment me and berate my pretentiousness in the same breath. I appreciate that.”

They pulled into the driveway with two minutes to spare before curfew. Jughead stretched as he got out of the car. “Guess this is my stop.”

“I guess it is.” She locked the car and sidled over to him, biting her lip at the way his giant (wonderful) hands couldn’t quite fit into his pockets. Jughead tilted his chin up and looked down through the sharp, crescent slats of his eyes. A few feet apart, their height. “Thanks for tonight.”

He grinned. “Let’s do it again sometime.”

Rolling her eyes, she pulled him closer, shielding their lips in case her mom peeked out the curtains. Kissing Jughead gave Betty a bit of a buzz, especially now that there weren’t any question marks about the experience except how long they could keep going. Finally, she rubbed his cheek and pulled back, grinning at the way he swayed closer. “Are you sure you’ll be okay going home by yourself? Should I drive you back?”

He sighed and popped his collar, fixing her with a skeptical look. “If people aren’t intimidated by my Serpent affiliation, I’ll let them know I’m dating Alice Cooper’s daughter. That should scare them off.”

With a fond smile, she clasped his hand. “Text me so I know you got back okay.”

“So demanding.”

They kissed and squeezed each other’s hands one more time before he left. She waited by the door, biting her lip until the moment he looked back at her and smirked. That boy was going to have an ego through the roof if she kept pining after him even after they got together. Hurrying inside, Betty hung up her mother’s keys, calling, “Thanks for letting me use the car!” before bouncing into her room. For the next few minutes, she didn’t know what to do with all of her excitement besides flounce around, checking for teeth marks in the vanity mirror.

Jughead  _ loved  _ her. She wanted to shout it into the pillows and write it over a thousand times.

Betty contemplated calling Polly to share the good news. But then she’d also want to come clean about the letters–and her former crush on Jason. Better let that settle, first, Betty decided, and dialed Kevin. “I think Nana Rose was right–the letters did lead me to my soulmate.”

“You mean me, obviously,” Kevin mocked.

She laughed and rolled her eyes. “Maybe platonically.”

“So what did your Ravenous Romeo do tonight?”

With a triumphant smile, Betty sank down on the mattress and looked at the heart decorations on her wall, the paper flowers she made out of their love notes climbing towards the ceiling. “He told me he loved me.”

“No!”

“And I told him I loved him back!”

“Betty!”

“I know! He wrote me a letter.”

“Was it a graphic ‘I want to lick milkshake off your –insert body part here–’ thing or more of an appreciative sonnet?”

She rolled onto her side and shook her head, wondering if Jughead  _ did  _ have those kinds of thoughts or if Kevin was used to dating perverts with nothing else to say. “He told me how he felt, Kevin, and he’s  _ shown _ me in a million ways. In all the excitement, I left the letter at his place.”

“Were you too busy looking for your underwear to find it again?”

“I know where to find my personal effects!” The door creaked. Betty bolted upright and pulled the phone away from her ear. Hesitating, she continued the conversation. “How’s your love life?”

“As sporadic as ever. Maybe I should find a penpal. You think there’s a dating site for that?”

“There seems to be one for everything else. Or you could always ask Nana Rose for dating tips.” Creeping across the carpet, Betty yanked the door open to reveal Alice crouching by the door. “Mom!”

Alice plastered a fake smile on her face and smoothed her hair. “Hi, honey. Dropped my earring back and wanted to check how the dinner went.”

“It was great.” Betty arched an eyebrow, rolling her lips into a thin, impatient smile.

“Well then. I’ll let you catch up with your friend before you give me the full details.” Waving, Alice meandered down the stairs, peeking over on her tip-toes every few steps.

Betty sighed and closed the door before returning to Kevin. “I should probably go before my mother crawls under the door for details. Have a good night!”

“Let me know if Romeo shows up at your window. Bye!”

After she hung up, Betty kicked the carpet, rubbing her thumb across Jughead’s picture on her home screen. Every time she saw his cute face she wanted to caress it. Dialing Jughead’s number, Betty sat on the bed and drew her knees up to her chest.

He picked up after the first ring, his voice lilting. “Miss me already?”

She tucked her cheek against her shoulder. “I had to make sure you got home okay.”

“Always thinking of me, aren’t you, Betts?”

“I’ll be thinking about tonight for the rest of my life.” She smiled, curling her toes into the bedspread.

Jughead let out a small breath. “Same. I’m not sure I can do it justice. How am I supposed to write any romances that can compare to ours?”

“You’d write a romance?” She tucked her face against her pillow, wishing it was his chest, instead. “I thought you only wrote true crime.”

“Whatever makes my bae happy.”

Delighted, she laughed. “Bae? You are such a dork!”

“ _ Your _ dork, at least.”

“You’ve got me there.”  _ You’ve got me forever _ , she mused happily.

Jughead couldn’t keep his hands to himself. The minute Betty was within eyesight he flocked to her like a moth to a flame. There were a million tiny excuses to get closer: securing his headphones over her ears to suggest a tolerable song for Homecoming, massaging her shoulder, lightly tugging her ponytail for attention, he took any excuse to anchor himself in her presence.

The Blossoms kept their distance, although a few of their cronies wormed their way closer every once in a while. All they wanted to know was what school Betty wanted to go to and how she was doing. It was kind of weird but maybe they missed her presence. He knew he would’ve. No immediate traps were forthcoming so he shrugged it off and kept doing his thing, wrapping an arm around Betty or posturing when Jason stared at her for too long. It was his lizard brain acting. But it kept the Blossoms at bay. Sort of.

They kept looking at him and Betty like they were waiting for something to happen. Cheryl pursed those giant Scream Queen lips and commanded her pawns to dictate something on their phones, by the looks of things. 

When Betty tapped on his knee at lunch, he paused, his cheeks full of burrito.

“Do you mind if I sit on your lap to make room for Kevin?” she whispered, gesturing to Kevin. He hovered between his usual table and theirs, thumbing his phone with an anxious expression.

Licking the filling from his teeth, Jughead nodded, backing up and holding her around the waist to help her settle into his lap.

“Thank you, Juggie.” She kissed his bulging cheek and laughed, wiping the corner of his smile when drool leaked past his lip. He felt like a mess. But he couldn’t stop being  _ happy, _ and Betty seemed to like him anyway so it worked for everybody.

Kevin took a deep breath, forcing a big Ken doll smile. “Hey. Mind if I sit?”

“Sure!” She patted the place next to her.

Jughead grunted acknowledgement at Kevin’s shaky, “How are you?” and bit into his burrito, rubbing Betty’s side as they chatted.

Fangs poked his foot under the table. “Hey. What’s Preppy’s story?”

Sweet Pea smacked his arm. “You already have a date for Homecoming.”

“I know, but Joaquin doesn’t,” Fangs reasoned, propping his chin on his fist.

Jughead rolled his eyes. Since when had the Serpents started playing matchmaker? “Your idea of being a wingman was to embarrass me and Betty in front of one another.”

“And? You’re together.”

“You’re welcome,” Sweet Pea added, ripping off a hunk of cheeseburger with his teeth.

Snorting laughter, Jughead shook his head. “If it wasn’t for Betty’s love letters, I would’ve graduated a bitter, lonely man.”

Sweet Pea rolled his eyes.

“Oh my god!” Betty half slid off Jughead’s lap, nearly pushing Kevin off the bench altogether.

Tensing, Jughead tightened his grip on her waist. “What is it? Was I not supposed to talk about the letters?”

“No. The–I–who posted this?” Betty demanded, jabbing an accusatory finger at the screen, blocking the blurry picture underneath. Jughead peered at it, squinting at the domain name.  _ MapleSecrets _ .

Kevin shrugged, paling as he pried Betty’s grip off his phone. “It’s a throwaway account.”

“How do we take it down? Have you reported it?”

“Yes, but technically it doesn’t show anything explicit, so there’s not much we can do.”

Betty’s jaw fell open as she scrolled to the comments section. Instinctively, Jughead squeezed her shoulder and leaned close, trying to focus on her face instead of the screen. “Hey, what do you need?”

Her ponytail flicked his cheeks as she shook her head.

Everyone fell quiet and looked up as a shadow fell over their table. Principal Weatherbee folded his hands over his stomach, looking down at them through the spectacles perched on his nose. “Mr. Jones. Miss Cooper. Would you join me in my office?”

“Can we say no?” Jughead grumbled, confused as to what was going on this time. The Serpents hadn’t staged a protest or gotten into any fights that he could recall.

“You could if you wanted to land in detention.”

Betty’s muffled sniff was like a stab through the heart. Jughead wanted to rub her back, to tell her she was still a good girl,  _ his  _ good girl. “We don’t have anything to hide,” he snapped, pissed off that the stick in the mud was upsetting his girlfriend.

“Then you don’t mind clearing up a few things for me.”

Turning her face away, Betty nodded, primly gesturing for Kevin to make room as she primly clambered off Jughead’s lap.

“Betty…” Jughead clambered over the bench and stuffed his leftover food in his pockets, chasing after his girlfriend. Her shoulders hunched, fists clenched. “Hey!” His fingers skimmed her shaking hands.

“Let her be, Mr. Jones,” Weatherbee warned, solemnly leading them to his office.

“What the hell was on that website?” Jughead hissed under his breath, stalking by Betty’s side.

Behind them, the Serpents table wolf whistled, shouting, “Way to go, Jug and Betty!”

Baffled, he looked over his shoulder. The crew was huddled around Kevin’s phone, grinning from ear to ear. Was it good news? Or were they cheering for the sake of anti-establishment sentiments? Neither made sense, considering the way Betty was having trouble looking at him.

They hurried into the office and arranged the chairs side by side. Normally, he slouched down and scowled at the principal, but Betty sat at perfect ninety degree angles next to him, resulting in some slightly aggressive fidgeting on his end. When Weatherbee opened up his laptop, taking his eyes off them, Betty reached over and squeezed Jughead’s knee, giving him a watery, reassuring look he didn’t understand as she seemed to gather her wits.

He raised his upturned hands. “May I ask why we were so unceremoniously dragged to your office without warning?”

“No one dragged you, Mr. Jones.”

“You summoned us during  _ lunch.  _ Our one free period. Is lap-sitting now a punishable offense?” He hoped not. Judging Betty’s drawn expression, she felt similarly.

“No, Mr. Jones, although I think you and I both know you and Ms. Cooper have been getting too comfortable on campus.”

“What does  _ that  _ mean?” Jughead frowned, tempted to run a hand through Betty’s ponytail just because he could.

“I got an anonymous tip on the MapleSecrets site that you and Ms. Cooper have been using our facilities for sexual encounters–at the expense of other students, no less.”

He died. Jughead’s soul left his body and his lip twitched upward. A slightly hysterical, “What?” was all he could manage. Betty and he hadn’t even technically had sex yet.

“It appears that Ms. Cooper is often the instigator in these situations.”

“What?” That time, he did laugh, then cleared his throat, sobering at her incredulous look. “Betty and I have not been having sexual encounters on campus and if your sources are ill-timed gossip and a site the jocks use to tag Sticky Maple stories–”

“Students reported that Ms. Cooper grabbed you and aggressively kissed you during her gym class. Then you two caused a scene with the Blossoms and burned off your adrenaline during a lunchtime lap session, presumably much like I found you today, only locked at the lips.”

Jughead covered his grin at the memory, glancing at Betty to gauge her response. Her brow was furrowed, lips parted in something like indignance. “How does that affect other students?”

“Were they put off their lunch?” Jughead taunted, far too gleeful. “Is that why you’re taking me away from mine?”

Weatherbee gave him a dead stare and tilted the screen. “This video shows Ms. Cooper following you to the bathroom, another student attempting to get in, and… well, you’ll see for yourself.”

Scooting forward, Jughead rubbed his hands together, raptly focused on the screen. The text says something like, “Secret slutty editor has an appetite as insatiable as hobo bf’s.”

An angry knot forms in the back of his throat. Are they implying she’s a slut? And by  _ they  _ he means  _ Cheryl _ . In the video, Betty emerged from the bathroom, looked both ways, and approached someone near the camera. The lens jerked down to her shoes, muffled conversation about shirts following until it snapped back on Jughead himself exiting, tugging his clothes and offering a wry smirk and wink to Betty before he hid his old stained shirt. Her expression afterwards, the cute bashfulness, the  _ glee _ is cut off by a jump cut to his shirt, still wet and smeared with white icing.

Shit. It definitely looked like she gave him a blowjob or  _ something _ . No wonder his friends were hollering.

Rubbing his face, Jughead turned to Betty, who looked tense enough to pop off like a smartie dropped in Coke.

“That isn’t what it looks like.” Her perfect ponytail swayed, electric with rage. “Jughead got frosting on his shirt after Cheryl shoved a cupcake into his chest and I wanted to help him clean it.”

“In the boys bathroom?”

“That’s where he went!” She sputtered, gesturing like an incensed PI. “I wanted to clear the air and help him.”

“So you not only entered the boys bathroom, but you locked it behind you to give you and your boyfriend privacy?”

“I’m not giving him blow jobs on school property.” Betty shot Jughead a disconcerted look that simultaneously made him alert–it was clearly his cue to jump in–but also gave him the impression she’d  _ thought  _ about going downtown in the Blue and Gold. Though her letters always veered more into sentimentality than sexuality, there were sensual undertones. Every time Betty wore a mini skirt he fantasized about her thighs wrapped around his waist or his face for at least a full twenty minutes so it wasn’t like he was put off. But could they get away with it without the stupid Blossom brigade?

Hunching closer, Jughead fixed Weatherbee with his most intimidating glare. “You know Betty’s character. She doesn’t lie. The Blossoms, who, I’m sorry, are  _ obviously  _ the anonymous tip, lie all the time.”

“I could probably get Jason to vouch for me with what happened that day,” Betty insisted.

Jughead threw up his hands and leaned back in the chair. “We don’t have to run to him for absolvement, Betty! We didn’t do anything wrong.” Besides, the last thing he needed was a suspension for in-school fighting thanks to the Blossoms’ testimony.

Weatherbee tapped the desk. “I still have video evidence of you two entering and locking the boys’ restroom.”

“Okay?” Betty placed her palms on her knees and arched an eyebrow. “But that was for five minutes. Not even.”

“No matter how much time, it’s still against school rules. I’m sorry, but there will be consequences for your actions.”

Dumbfounded, Jughead looked at Betty–straight-A student, Yearbook and newspaper editor, never been in detention  _ once– _ Cooper. “Are you seriously going to punish her for helping me clean up? So what if she locked the boys’ bathroom for a few minutes? It’s not like anyone had an emergency situation, and unless Cheryl decides to pelt me with cupcakes again, neither of us are planning on a repeat offense. The people who posted that video should be in detention. They’re not only lying, they’re slut shaming and bullying! Two things explicitly forbidden in the handbook.”

Weatherbee nodded. “The video was anonymous, but we are working on reporting that site and blocking it within school grounds.”

“It was Tina and Ginger,” Betty supplied, scooting forward in her seat. “I remember them waiting outside the bathroom and talking to me from that general position. If you pitch up the video you can probably match their voices. I wouldn’t put it past Cheryl to have ordered them to keep an eye on us after I hurt her precious brother.”

“You hurt Jason Blossom?”

“Emotionally,” Jughead supplied, failing to suppress his schadenfreude-induced smirk. 

Betty rolled her eyes. “Not intentionally. Look, Mr. Weatherbee, I can’t afford to serve detention in the next couple of weeks because of Homecoming, and I am sorry. Is there any way we can work something out?”

“I’ve worked it out for you.” Weatherbee closed the screen and folded his hands. Bracing himself, Jughead looked at Betty, who leaned forward in her seat. “You will not be allowed to attend Homecoming.”

“What?” Betty blinked, recoiling. “I–I planned the whole thing.”

“I understand. Riverdale High appreciates your efforts but we can’t have the PTA learning its organizer was using our facilities for…  _ cleaning _ .” Weatherbee cleared his throat, glancing at Jughead. Did Weatherbee seriously think Betty was blowing him in the bathroom? Or was this another Blossom thing?

“That’s ridiculous! And ignorant. How can you justify using her this way?”

“I’ll be the one to determine what’s appropriate, Mr. Jones. Now please leave.”

Jughead stood and slapped his chair to the ground. “I’ll be the one to determine when it’s time to leave. And I’m not going anywhere until you let my girlfriend go to the dance she’s been planning and you apologize for not supporting her in the face of slut shaming!”

“You want detention added to that list?” Wrists arched over spider-leg poised fingers, Weatherbee raised his voice and stood. “Or perhaps an in-school suspension?”

Betty’s hand wrapped around Jughead’s wrist, her big green eyes pleading, despite the watery sheen. “It’s fine, Juggie. It’s just a dance.”

“No. It’s not. It’s this school. These… bullies,” he growled, gesturing at Weatherbee.

Rolling her lips inward, Betty nodded, her ponytail drooping over her shoulder. “I know, Juggie, but as long as MapleSecrets gets taken down, as do Cheryl’s cohorts, it’s a small win.”

“And a giant defeat. Don’t you want to fight?”

“For what?” Her humorless chuckle fell through his gut like a broken elevator smashing through the ground floor. Betty wiped her cheeks and glanced at Weatherbee. “A dance? My dignity? I’m finally learning to invest in the people that value me, Juggie, and if this is how it’s going to be, then let it be.”

Not sure what to say, he frowned, letting her lead him around his fallen chair and out of the office, into the privacy of the Blue and Gold office. “Are you sure, Betty? We could–I don’t know, we could protest? Tell your mom and get an exposé in the Register?”

Sighing, Betty laid her cheek against his chest and leaned on him. “Mom would love the story. But I’m still not going. You didn’t want to anyway, right?”

“Not particularly,” he admitted, wrapping his arms around her, smoothing her back, “But it was important to you, which means it’s important to me.”

With a moan, she ran her fingers along his suspenders. “I was hoping I’d get to see these in action.”

“You could ask nicely,” he teased, kissing her forehead, waiting for her to pull back, her eyes bright and curious before he tilted her chin up for a deeper kiss. Her wet breath hit his lips in a sweet exhale. “How do you feel about tempting fate?”

She smiled, beautiful and bright, like he hung the stars in her eyes. “As long as you’re with me, Juggie.”

“I will be.” Cupping the back of her head, he sealed the promise with a kiss.

“Come here,” Betty whispered, tugging Jughead’s hand to lead him around Thornhill. She knew the back door code from when Polly and Jason had been dating, which made everything easier. The blue water glowed neon in the dark. Biting her lip, Betty turned on the hot tub, the churning bubbles bursting and cresting into foam.

Jughead unbuttoned the top of his shirt, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “What, you wanna go for a dip?”

“Yes.”

“I thought you said I didn’t have to bring a suit.”

Twisting her mouth wryly at the pun, Betty shot him a look, knowing he was eager to make her smile. “No one will see. They cover the cameras every time they have a party. And since it’s Homecoming...” Betty shrugged out of her dress, biting her lip as she regarded Jughead over her shoulder. “No one will be back for hours, at least.”

Jughead gaped at her, slowly pulling his rings off and sticking them in his pockets, which seemed to be protruding.. “I have to say, that is the  _ hottest _ thing I’ve ever seen.”

“More hot than breaking and entering?”

“ _ And  _ burning Jason’s letter. Although I wouldn’t have minded reading it, first. Compare and contrast.”

“It was someone else, Juggie,” she insisted, shaking her ponytail loose and dipping her foot in the hot water. “He no longer has any part of me. Past, present, or future.”

Jason’s bare-bones apology for his sister’s behavior combined with the way he treated her family showed Betty he wasn’t ready for anything involving accountability. As much as she appreciated their time together, he didn’t see her as a person. To him, she was a potential stand-in for Polly–someone to cheer for him in the stands, sit in his lap, and look pretty. Someone who needed “guiding” in all things. Not that Jughead didn’t have his own protective streak, but he’d let her do her own thing, even if he didn’t agree with it. Like Homecoming. Like breaking and entering.

“What about Polly? He might worm his way into the Cooper clan yet.”

Rolling her eyes, Betty put her thumbs in the waistband of her underwear. “You want to talk about my sister at a time like this?” She’d settled everything with her sister over a video call which had resulted in a hilarious vent session about Jason’s annoying qualities, then devolved into some kind of weird philosophy about destiny. Betty was less “spiritual” than her sister, but she knew she wanted to honor and celebrate whatever forces or coincidence brought her and Jughead together.

“I’d rather talk about how beautiful you look.” Eyes gleaming, Jughead slung off his tie, his intense expression momentarily softening. “You’re beautiful, Betty. Inside and out.”

“So are you, Juggie.”

He smirked and shook his head, unbuttoning the rest of his shirt and nodding at her. “Please, don’t stop on account of me. I’ll catch up.”

Giggling, Betty stepped out of her underwear and hurried into the water, hugging her chest amidst the heat. Steam curled around her shoulders, her tense, adrenaline-filled muscles loosening. Betty looked over her shoulder as Jughead jerked his zipper down, maintaining eye contact as he shimmied out of his dressiest pants, taking the underwear with him. Even though she’d felt, tasted, and  _ seen  _ him, he cradled himself with one hand, rubbing his beanie before taking a deep breath and dropping it to the pile of his clothes.

“You sure?”

Nodding, she stood, letting the foam drip down her breasts and abdomen as she extended her hand. “Join me.”

Lips quirking in a smile, Jughead took her hand, quickly wrapping himself around her as he drifted forward in the water. She cupped the back of his head, closing her eyes to enjoy the pull of his lips, the slick of his tongue, her heart beating in tandem with his. They floated onto the bench, running wet hands over each other’s bodies, kneading, rutting,  _ loving _ .

Taking a deep breath, Jughead grazed his nose against her cheek, his fingers gripping her hips hard enough to bruise. “Your love letters are really something. I mean, it’s almost a pity to burn them,” he mused, smirking. “They deserve their own anthology.”

Jughead looked at her like they were the only two people in the world. Every touch, every glance and whisper another love letter. Licking her lips, Betty leaned close. “I’d name it, ‘To all the boys,’” Betty kissed the corner of Jughead’s jaw, wrapping her legs tighter around him as he shivered and let out a groan of content, “‘But especially you.’”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What a ride! Thanks to my cheerleaders @thetaoofbetty/Smudge and @jjonesin4. Tumble with me @lovedinapastlife? Talk about love? Fun twists from source material and movie? No one can steal my happy endings from me! NO ONE. Also I like to think Cheryl and her cohort did get in trouble and Joaquin and Kevin went as dates and other cute things bc I am a squishy little marshmallow. What do you think? Love your comments, will catch up as soon as I can. Thank you for sticking with me for some fuzzy feelings (hopefully)


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